UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORL\M 
S.  L.  MILLARD  ROSENBERG 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

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http://www.archive.org/details/currentdiscussio02burliala 


CURRENT    DISCUSSION. 

VOL.     I. 
INTERNATIONAL      POLITICS 


I.  The  Russians,  the  Turks,  and  the  Bulgarians,  By  Archi- 
bald Forbes.  II.  Turkey.  By  Viscount  Stratford  de 
Redcliffe.  III.  Montenegro.  By  the  Rt.  Hon.  \V.  E.  Glad- 
stone. IV.  The  Political  Destiny  of  Canada.  By  Professor 
GoLDWiN  Smith.  V.  Prussia  in  the  Nineteenth  Century.  By 
Professor  J.  S.  Blackie.  VI.  The  Future  of  Eg)'pt.  By 
Edward  Dicey.  VII.  The  Slaveo\nier  and  the  Turk.  By 
Professor  Goldwin  Smith.  VIII.  The  Stability  of  the  British 
Empire  in  India.  By  Professor  Sidney  James  Owen.  IX.  The 
Relation  of  the  English  People  to  the  Russo-Turkish  War.  By 
Edward  A.  Freeman,    D.  C.  L. 


CURRENT  DISCUSSION 


A   COLLECTION 

FROM  THE   CHIEF  ENGLISH  ESS  A  YS  ON 
QUESTIONS  OF  THE   TIME. 


EDITED  BY 

EDWARD  L.  BURLINGAME 


VOL.   IL 
QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF 


NEW  YORK 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SQNS 

182  Fifth  Avenue 

1878. 


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if) 


<r-7 


PREFACE. 

That  highest  phase  of  "Current  Discussion,"  which 
d*  the   purposely  broad  title   chosen  for 

this  voiu-         jst  of  necessity  be  the  most  difficult  to 
^      present  fairly  ot  oletely  within  narrow  limits.     In 

the  debate  upon  every  iiither.^b]ect,  there  are  many 
obvious   guides  as   to   the  impor^^[:e  of  different  ex- 
pressions of  opinion — as  to   the  degree  in  which  they 
truly    represent    the    varying    directions    of    thought. 
Here,   there  are   few   such  aids,   if  any ; — selection  in 
this   field   must    unavoidably   be   a  matter   of    purely 
y      individual  judgment.     In  spite  of  the  broad  spirit  of 
5;      toleration  that   marks   all   recent   discussion,    there   is 
<-.      less    here  than    elsewhere   of    that   common    ground, 
S^      from  which  the  most  determined  opponents  may  see 
and  acknowledge  the  value  o£  each  other's  arguments 
as    contributions    to    the   whole.     I«    "  Questions    of 
Belief  "  it  is  still  possible  that  the  word.     ^   ken  upon 
the   one  side   seem   utterly   useless,  if   not  absolutely 
harmful,  to  the  other. 

A  charge  which  may  naturally  be  brought  against 

270178 


iv  PREFACE. 

the  choice  of  material  for  this  volume,  is  that  it 
favors  the  expression  of  what  is  known  as  the  "  radi- 
cal" school  of  thinkers  upon  these  subjects.  It  can 
only  be  said  that  the  skeptic  first  excites  discussion  ; 
and  that,  from  whatever  point  of  view  we  look  at 
it,  we  must  first  of  all  know  what  he  posits,  as  the 
very  matter  in  debate ; — that  the  conservative  always 
speaks  least,  from  the  very  nature  of  his  position  as 
a  resistant,  not  an  aggressor; — ^and  that  the  points 
of  attack  have  been  so  changed  that  to  many  earnest 
and  honest  minds  all  schools  of  thought  may  now 
seem   radical. 

It  may  fairly  be  remembered,  however,  that  a 
single  volume  gives  but  very  narrow  space,  much  of 
which  must  be  given  to  the  discussion  of  a  single 
proposition  ;  and  that  it  is  not  intended,  should  our 
scheme  meet  with  success,  that  the  present  shall  be 
the  only   selection   in   this   field. 


To  many  the  position  and  the  work  of  all  the 
writers  represented  here  are  so  thoroughly  known, 
that  to  repeat  the  plan  adopted  in  the  first  volume, 
of  a  prefatory  note  recalling  them,  may  easily  seem 
superfluous.  At  the  same  time  there  appear  here 
many    names    which    may    not    immediately    connect 


PREFACE.  V 

themselves  in  the  minds  of  all  readers  with  the  opin- 
ions or  the  work  which  they  represent.  Some  of 
the  authors  who  take  part  in  this  discussion  have 
indeed  already  addressed  the  largest  possible  public, 
and  need  no  explanation  of  their  attitude ; — such  are 
Professor  Huxley,  the  Duke  of  Argyll,  Dr.  Martineau, 
and  Mr.  Hughes,  for  example ;  and  less  can  hardly 
be  said  of  Mr.  Lewes.  But  there  are  others  who, 
from  the  very  nature  of  their  writings,  have  spoken 
to  smaller  audiences. 

Mr.  Frederic  Harrison,  whose  remarkable  paper — 
""  The  Soul  and  Future  Life  " — ^f orms  the  text  for  so 
much  in  this  volume,  is,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  one 
of  the  leaders  among  English  Positivists ;  and  has 
been  for  years  an  untiring  and  most  powerful  agent 
in  spreading  in  England  the  teachings  of  his  school — 
a  translation  (under  the  title  "  Social  Statics  ")  from 
Comte's  "  Positive  Polity,"  being,  by  the  way,  one  of 
the  latest  of  his  publications.  Apart  from  his  many 
lectures  and  writings  upon  philosophical  topics,  how- 
ever, he  has  had  an  active  influence  upon  affairs 
which  is  remarkable  for  a  man  of  forty-six.  Called 
to  the  bar  in  1859,  he  quickly  became  prominent  in 
his  profession.  Ten  years  later  he  was  secretary  of 
the  "  Royal  Commission  for  the  Digest  of  the  Law  ; " 
in  1873  he  was  made  examiner  in  Civil  and  Interna- 
tional   Law    and    Jurisprudence,    by   the    Council   of 


Vi  PREFACE. 

Legal  Education  ;  and  he  has  been  very  eminent  in 
chancery  practice.  A  special  subject  of  his  study 
has  been  the  education  and  improvement  of  the  work- 
ing classes,  which  he  has  sought  to  further  in  the 
Working  Men's  College,  the  Working  Women's  Col- 
lege, the  Positive  School,  and*  other  schemes  of 
which  he  has  been  one  of  the  foremost  advocates. 
The  greater  part  of  his  writings  remains  in  the 
form  of  contributions  to  periodicals — notably  to  the 
Fortnightly  Review. 

Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton,  as  editor  of  the  Spectator^ 
occupies  one  of  the  foremost  positions  in  English 
journalism.  His  contribution  in  the  "  Symposium " 
to  the  discussion  of  the  "Soul  and  Future  Life"  is 
not  the  first  or  only  paper  that  he  has  written  upon 
the  subject,  or  upon  Mr.  Harrison's  view  of  it.  A 
series  of  most  noteworthy  papers,  properly  belong- 
ing to  this  literature,  but  too  long  to  be  included 
here,  were  contributed  by  him  to  early  numbers  of 
the  Spectator  for    1877. 

Sir  James  Fitzjames  Stephen  was  best  known  to 
the  public  as  a  leading  jurist,  as  a  codifier  of  the 
laws  of  India,  and  as  the  writer  of  one  of  the  best 
general  works  on  English  criminal  law, — until,  in 
1873,  the  publication  of  his  "Liberty,  Equality  and 
Fraternity "  made  him  famous  in  a  less  special  field. 
He  has  a  peculiar  title  to   appear  among    the  repre- 


PREFACE.  Vii 

sentatives  of  deep  and  earnest  thought  upon  the  first 
of  all   speculative   questions. 

Lord  Selborne  is  better  remembered  by  the  gen- 
eral reader  as  Sir  Roundell  Palmer ;  for  he  was  only- 
raised  to  the  peerage  in  1872.  The  political  career  of 
a  man  who  has  been  solicitor-general  under  Palmer- 
ston,  attorney-general  under  Lord  John  Russell,  and 
Lord  Chancellor  under  Mr.  Gladstone,  need  hardly 
be  recalled  here — more  especially  as  his  name  be- 
came familiar  to  Americans  through  his  representa- 
tion of  Great  Britain  before  the  Geneva  Arbitrators 
in  1 87 1.  One  of  the  most  prominent  parts  of  his 
purely  literary  work  is  his  well-known  "  Book  of 
Praise" — one  of  the  best  collections  of  devotional 
poetry  in   the   language. 

Lord  Blachford  is  a  well-known  English  scholar — 
like  the  rest  a  member  of  the  bar  for  years,  and 
afterward  rising  rapidly  in  political  life  until  his  last 
office — the  under-secretaryship  for  the  Colonies — from 
which  he  retired  in  1871.  He  has  written  many  strik- 
ing papers  in  the  Quarterlies  and  Magazines. 

Of  the  clerical  disputants  in  the  "  Symposiums," 
the  Reverend  Alfred  Barry,  Canon  of  Worcester,  is 
a  very  well-known  writer  on  practical  ethics — the 
character  of  his  work  being  fairly  exemplified,  per- 
haps, by  his  "  Lectures  to  Men "  on  "  Religion  for 
Every  Day" — one   of   the  more  recent  of  his   books. 


viii  PREFACE. 

He  has  gained  great  distinction  not  only  as  a  scholar 
but  as  a  teacher ;  and  has  been  successively  prin- 
cipal of  the  Leeds  Grammar  School,  Cheltenham 
College,  and  King's  College,  London  ;  and  a  member 
of  the  London  School  Board.  The  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's  (Doctor  Richard  William  Church),  less  known 
as  a  writer  than  as  a  preacher,  represents  fairly  in 
the  discussion  the  conservative  element  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church ;  and  Dr.  Ward,  a  well-known  contrib- 
utor to  the  reviews,  performs — not  for  the  only  time 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century — the  same  office  for  Ro- 
man Catholic  opinion.  The  Reverend  James  Bald- 
win Brown  (the  author  of  "The  Higher  Life,"  "The 
Christian  Policy  of  Life,"  and  other  books  which 
have  been  widely  read  in  his  persuasion),  is  a  liberal 
Independent — the  minister  of  a  large  London  con- 
gregation. 

Mr.  W.  R.  Greg  can'  need  little  introduction  to 
any  reader  of  the  speculative  writing  of  recent  years. 
His  "  Enigmas  of  Life "  has  passed  through  many 
editions,  including  one  at  least  in  this  country,  and 
has  been  unquestionably  (in  spite  of  the  similarity 
in  its  tone  to  the  despondent  spirit  of  his  contribu- 
tion to  the  Symposium),  one  of  the  most  widely-read 
books  of  its  class.  His  "Political  Problems,"  "Liter- 
ary and  Social  Judgments,"  and  "  Creed  of  Chris- 
tendom "  are   the    chief    of    his    other  works,  though 


PREFACE.  ix 

his  "Rocks  Ahead,  or  the  Warnings  of  Cassandra/' 
attracted  great  attention  at  the  time  of  its  appear- 
ance in  1874,  and  gave  rise  to  a  long  and  vehement 
discussion. 

Professor  W.  Kingdon  Clifford,  a  man  of  singularly 
brilliant  and  versatile  powers,  is  at  the  same  time  one  of 
the  most  acute  thinkers  and  most  attractive  writers 
among  the  younger  generation  of  English  scientific 
men.  He  is,  I  believe,  not  yet  forty.  Taking  high 
honors  at  Cambridge,  and  especially  distinguished  both 
at  the  University  and  afterward  for  the  ease  with  which 
he  mastered  the  most  diverse  subjects,  he  not  only  de- 
voted himself  to  his  special  study, — the  higher  mathe- 
matics,—  but  soon  became  known  as  a  writer  upon 
speculative  topics.  Among  his  strictly  scientific  work, 
that  relating  to  dynamics  has  been  particularly  valuable  ; 
and  he  is  the  author  of  one  of  the  first  text-books  upon 
the  subject.  His  short  papers  have  generally  appeared 
in  the  Fortnightly  Review. 

The  Hon.  Roden  Noel  has  been  chiefly  known  to 
the  general  reader  through  his  contributions  to  a  lighter 
literature,  and  his  name  is  more  easily  recalled  in  con- 
nection with  his  occasional  poems  and  reviews  than 
with  speculative  essays. 

Mr.  Mallock,  still  a  young  man,  and  a  comparatively 
recent  graduate  of  Oxford,  though  his  rapidly  growing 
reputation  has  been  chiefly  aided  with  the  larger  public 


X  PREFACE. 

by  his  brilliant  and  capital  trifle,  "  The  New  Republic  " 
— has  shown  in  his  essays  a  depth  and  earnestness  of 
thought  that  place  him  unquestionably  among  the  most 
promising  writers  of  the  time.  A  volume  like  this  may 
fitly  close  with  the  work  of  a  pen  from  which  we  may 
certainly  hope  for  further  papers  as  striking  and  as 
thoughtful  as  the  one  here  given. 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 
I.    The  Soul  and  Future  Life.    By  Frederick  Harrison.    .        i 

II.    A  Modern  Symposium  1 43 

The  Soul  and  Future  Life.  By  R.  H.  Hutton,  Professor 
Huxley,  Lord  Blachford,  Hon.  Roden  Noel,  Lord  Sel- 
bome,  W.  R.  Greg,  Rev.  Baldwin  Brown,  Dr.  W.  G. 
Ward. 

III.  A  Modern  Symposium  II 156 

Tlie  Infliie7tce  upon  Morality  of  a  Decline  in  Religious 
Belief.  By  Sir  James  Stephen,  Lord  Selbome,  James 
Martineau,  Frederic  Harrison,  The  Dean  of  St.  Pauls', 
The  Duke  of  Argyll,  Professor  Clifford,  Dr.  W.  G.  Ward. 
Professor  Huxley,  R.  H.  Hutton. 

IV.  The  Course  of  Modern  Thought.     G.  H.  Lewes.     .        .   232 
V.     The  Condition  and  Prospects  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land.    By  Thomas  Hughes.         .         .         .         .         .251 

VI.     Is  Life  Worth  Living  ?    By  W.  H.  Mallock.      .        .         280 


777^  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE? 

BY   FREDERIC    HARRISON. 

How  many  men  and  women  continue  to  give  a  mechanical 
acquiescence  to  the  creeds,  long  after  they  have  parted  with 
all  definite  theology,  out  of  mere  clinging  to  some  hope  of  a 
future  life,  in  however  dim  and  inarticulate  a  way  !  And  how 
many,  whose  own  faith  is  too  evanescent  to  be  put  into  words, 
profess  a  sovereign  pity  for  the  practical  philosophy  wherein 
there  is  no  place  for  their  particular  yearning  for  a  Heaven  to 
come  !  They  imagine  themselves  to  be,  by  virtue  of  this  very 
yearning,  beings  of  a  superior  order,  and,  as  if  they  inhabited 
some  higher  zone  amidst  the  clouds,  they  flout  sober  thought 
as  it  toils  in  the  plain  below ;  they  counsel  it  to  drown  itself 
in  sheer  despair  or  take  to  evil  living ;  they  rebuke  it  with 
some  sonorous  household  word  from  the  Bible  or  the  poets — 
*  Eat,  drink,  for  to-morrow  ye  die' — '  Were  it  not  better  not  to 
be  ? '  And  they  assume  the  question  closed,  when  they  have 
murmured  triumphantly,  '  Behind  the  veil,  behind  the  veil.' 

They  are  right,  and  they  are  wrong  :  right  to  cling  to  a  hope 
of  something  that  shall  endure  beyond  the  grave  ;  wrong  in 

1  The  Nineteenth  Cexturv,  June,  1877. 


2  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

their  rebukes  to  men  who  in  a  different  spirit  cling  to  this 
hope  as  earnestly  as  they.  We  too  turn  our  thoughts  to  that 
which  is  behind  the  veil.  We  strive  to  pierce  its  secret  with 
eyes,  we  trust,  as  eager  and  as  fearless  ;  and  even  it  may  be 
more  patient  in  searching  for  the  realities  beyond  the  gloom. 
That  which  shall  come  after  is  no  less  solemn  to  us  than  to 
you.  We  ask  you,  therefore,  WJiat  do  you  know  of  it  ?  Tell 
us  ;  we  will  tell  you  what  we  hope.  Let  us  reason  together 
in  sober  and  precise  prose.  Why  should  this  great  end,  staring 
at  all  of  us  along  the  vista  of  each  human  life,  be  forever  a 
matter  for  dithyrambic  hypotheses  and  evasive  tropes  ?  What 
in  the  language  of  clear  sense  does  any  one  of  us  hope  for 
after  death  :  what  precise  kind  of  life,  and  on  what  grounds  ? 
It  is  too  great  a  thing  to  be  trusted  to  poetic  ejaculations,  to 
be  made  a  field  for  Pharisaic  scorn.  At  least  be  it  acknowl- 
edged that  a  man  may  think  of  the  Soul  and  of  Death  and  of 
Future  Life  in  ways  strictly  positive  (that  is,  without  ever 
quitting  the  region  of  evidence),  and  yet  may  make  the  world 
beyond  the  grave  the  centre  to  himself  of  moral  life.  He  will 
give  the  spiritual  life  a  place  as  high,  and  will  dwell  upon  the 
promises  of  that  which  is  after  death  as  confidently  as  the 
believers  in  a  celestial  resurrection.  And  he  can  do  this 
without  trusting  his  all  to  a  perhaps  so  vague  that  a  spasm 
of  doubt  can  wreck  it,  but  trusting  rather  to  a  mass  of  solid 
knowledge,  which  no  man  of  any  school  denies  to  be  true  so 
far  as  it  goes. 

I. 
There  ought  to  be  no  misunderstanding  at  the  outset  as  to 
what  we  who  trust  in  positive  methods  mean  by  the  word  Soul, 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  3 

or  by  the  words  *  spiritual,'  '  materialist,'  and  *  future  life.* 
We  certainly  would  use  that  ancient  and  beautiful  word  Soul, 
provided  there  be  no  misconception  involved  in  its  use.  We 
assert  as  fully  as  any  theologian  the  supreme  importance  of 
spiritual  life.  We  agree  with  the  theologians  that  there  is 
current  a  great  deal  of  real  materialism,  deadening  to  our 
higher  feeling.  And  we  deplore  the  too  common  indifference 
to  the  world  beyond  the  grave.  And  yet  we  find  the  centre 
of  our  religion  and  our  philosophy  in  Man  and  man's  Earth. 

To  follow  out  this  use  of  old  words,  and  to  see  that  there  is 
no  paradox  in  thus  using  them,  we  must  go  back  a  little  to 
general  principles.  The  matter  turns  altogether  upon  habits 
of  thought.  What  seems  to  you  so  shocking  will  often  seem 
to  us  so  ennobling,  and  what  seems  to  us  flimsy  will  often 
seem  to  you  sublime,  simply  because  our  minds  have  been 
trained  in  different  logical  methods  ;  and  hence  you  will  call 
that  a  beautiful  truth  which  strikes  us  as  nothing  but  a  random 
guess.  It  is  idle,  of  course  to  dispute  about  our  respective 
logical  methods,  or  to  pit  this  habit  of  mind  in  a  combat  with 
that.  But  we  may  understand  each  other  better  if  we  can 
agree  to  follow  out  the  moral  and  religious  temper,  and  learn 
that  it  is  quite  compatible  with  this  or  that  mental  procedure. 
It  may  teach  us  again  that  ancient  truth,  how  much  human 
nature  there  is  in  men ;  what  fellowship  there  is  in  our 
common  aspirations  and  moral  forces ;  how  we  all  live  the 
same  spiritual  life  ;  whilst  the  philosophies  are  but  the  ceaseless 
toil  of  the  intellect  seeking  again  and  again  to  explain  more 
clearly  that  spiritual  life,  and  to  furnish  it  with  reasons  for  the 
faith  that  is  in  it. 


4  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

This  would  be  no  place  to  expound  or  to  defend  the  positive 
method  of  thought.  The  question  before  us  is  simply,  if  this 
positive  method  has  a  place  in  the  spiritual  world  or  has  any- 
thing to  say  about  a  future  beyond  the  grave.  Suffice  it  that 
we  mean  by  the  positive  method  of  thought  (and  we  will  now 
use  the  term  in  a  sense  not  limited  to  the  social  construction 
of  Comte)  that  method  which  would  base  life  and  conduct,  as 
well  as  knowledge,  upon  such  evidence  as  can  be  referred  to 
logical  canons  of  proof  y  which  would  place  all  that  occupies 
man  in  a  homogenous  system  of  law.  On  the  other  hand,  this 
method  turns  aside  from  hypotheses  not  to  be  tested  by  any 
known  logical  canon  familiar  to  science,  whether  the  hypothesis 
claim  support  from  intuition,  aspiration,  or  general  plausibility. 
And  again,  this  method  turns  aside  from  ideal  standards  which 
avow  themselves  to  be  lawless,  which  profess  to  transcend  the 
field  of  law.  We  say,  life  and  conduct  shall  stand  for  us 
wholly  on  a  basis  of  law,  and  must  rest  entirely  in  that  region 
of  science  (not  physical  but  moral  and  social  science)  where 
we  are  free  to  use  our  intelligence  in  the  methods  known  to  us 
as  intelligible  logic,  methods  which  the  intellect  can  analyse. 
When  you  confront  us  with  hypotheses,  however  sublime  and 
however  affecting,  if  they  cannot  be  stated  in  terms  of  the  rest 
of  our  knowledge,  if  they  are  disparate  to  that  world  of  sequence 
and  sensation  which  to  us  is  the  ultimate  base  of  all  our  real 
knowledge,  then  we  shake  our  heads  and  turn  aside.  I  say, 
turn  aside  ;  and  I  do  not  say,  dispute.  We  cannot  disprove 
the  suggestion  that  there  are  higher  channels  to  knowledge  in 
our  aspirations  or  our  presentiments,  as  there  might  be  in  our 
dreams  by  night  as  well  as  by  day ;  we  courteously  salute  the 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  5 

hypotheses,  as  we  might  love  our  present  dreams ;  we  seek  to 
prove  no  negatives.    We  do  not  pretend  there  are  no  mysteries, 
we  do  not  frown  on  the  poetic  splendors  of  the  fancy.     There 
is  a  world  of  beauty  and  of  pathos  in  the  vast  ether  of  the 
Unknown  in  which  this  solid  ball  hangs  like  a  speck.     Let  all 
who  list,  who  have  true  imagination  and  not  mere  paltering 
with  a  loose  fancy,  let  them  indulge  their  gift,  and  tell  us  what 
their  soaring  has  unfolded.     Only  let  us  not  waste  life  in  crude 
dreaming,  or  loosen  the  knees  of  action.     For  life  and  conduct, 
and  the  great  emotions  which  react  on  life  and  conduct,  we 
can  place  nowhere  but  in  the  same  sphere  of  knowledge,  under 
the  same  canons  of  proof,  to  which  we  entrust  all  parts  of  our 
life.     We  will  ask  the  same  philosophy  which  teaches  us  the 
lessons  of  civilization  to  guide  our  lives  as  responsible  men  ; 
and  we  go  again  to  the  same  philosophy  which  orders  our  lives 
to  explain  to  us  the  lessons  of  death.     We  crave  to  have  the 
supreme  hours  of  our  existence  lighted  up  by  thoughts  and 
motives  such  as  we  can  measure  beside  the  common  acts  of 
our  daily  existence,  so  that  each  hour  of  our  life  up  to  the 
grave  may  be  linked  to  the  life  beyond  the  grave  as  one  con- 
tinuous whole,  '  bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety.'     And 
so,  wasting  no  sighs  over  the  incommensurable  possibilities  of 
the  fancy,  we  will  march  on  with  a  firm  step  till  we  knock  at 
the  gates  of  Death  ;   bearing  always  the  same  human  temper, 
in  the  same  reasonable  beliefs,  and  with  the  same  earthly  hopes 
of  prolonged  activity  amongst  our  fellows,  with  which  we  set 
out  gaily  in  the  morning  of  life. 

When  we  come  to  the  problem  of  the  human  Soul,  we  simply 
treat  man  as  man,  and  we  study  him  in  accordance  with  our 


6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

liuman  experience.  Man  is  a  marvellous  and  complex  being, 
we  may  fairly  say  of  complexity  past  any  hope  of  final  analysis 
of  ours,  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  to  the  point  of  being 
mysterious.  But  incredible  progress  has  been  won  in  reading 
this  complexity,  in  reducing  this  mystery  to  order.  Who  can 
say  that  man  shall  ever  be  anything  but  an  object  of  awe  and 
of  unfathomable  pondering  to  himself  ?  Yet  he  would  be  false 
to  all  that  is  great  in  him,  if  he  decried  what  he  already  has 
achieved  towards  self-knowledge.  Man  has  probed  his  own 
corporeal  and  animal  life,  and  is  each  day  arranging  it  in  more 
accurate  adjustment  with  the  immense  procession  of  animal 
life  around  him.  He  has  grouped  the  intellectual  powers,  he 
has  traced  to  their  relations  the  functions  of  mind,  and  ordered 
the  laws  of  thought  into  a  logic  of  a  regular  kind.  He  has 
analysed  and  grouped  the  capacities  of  action,  the  moral  facul- 
ties, the  instincts  and  emotions.  And  not  only  is  the  analysis 
of  these  tolerably  clear,  but  the  associations  and  correlations 
of  each  with  the  other  are  fairly  made  manifest.  At  the  lowest, 
we  are  all  assured  that  every  single  faculty  of  man  is  capable 
of  scientific  study.  Philosophy  simply  means,  that  every  part 
of  human  nature  acts  upon  a  method,  and  does  not  act  chaoti- 
cally, inscrutably,  or  in  mere  caprice. 

But  then  we  find  throughout  man's  knowledge  of  himself 
signs  of  a  common  type.  There  is  organic  unity  in  the  whole. 
These  laws  of  separate  functions,  of  body,  mind,  or  feeling, 
have  visible  relations  to  each  other,  are  inextricably  woven  in 
with  each  other,  act  and  react,  depend  and  interdepend  one 
on  the  other.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  isolated  phe- 
nomenon, nothing  sui  generis,  in  our  entire  scrutiny  of  human 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  7 

nature.  Whatever  the  complexities  of  it,  there  is  through  the 
whole  the  solidarity  of  a  single  unit.  Touch  the  smallest  fibre 
of  the  corporeal  man,  and  in  some  -  infinitesimal  way  we  may 
watch  the  effect  in  the  moral  man,  and  we  may  trace  this  effect 
up  into  the  highest  pinnacles  of  the  spiritual  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  we  rouse  chords  of  the  most  glorious  ecstasy  of  the 
soul,  we  may  see  the  vibration  of  them  visibly  thrilling  upon 
the  skin.  The  very  animals  about  us  can  perceive  the  emotion. 
Suppose  a  martyr  nerved  to  the  last  sacrifice,  or  a  saint  in  the 
act  of  relieving  a  sufferer,  the  sacred  passion  within  them  is 
stamped  in  the  eye,  or  plays  about  the  mouth,  with  a  connec- 
tion as  visible  as  when  we  see  a  muscle  acting  on  a  bone,  or  the 
brain  affected  by  the  supply  of  blood.  Thus  from  the  summit 
of  spiritual  life  to  the  base  of  corporeal  life,  whether  we  pass 
up  or  down  the  gamut  of  human  forces,  there  runs  one  organic 
correlation  and  sympathy  of  parts.  Man  is  one,  however  com- 
pound. Fire  his  conscience,  and  he  blushes.  Check  his 
circulation,  and  he  thinks  wildly,  or  thinks  not  at  all.  Impair 
his  secretions,  and  moral  sense  is  dulled,  discolored  or  de- 
praved ;  his  aspirations  flag,  his  hope,  love,  faith  reel.  Impair 
them  still  more,  and  he  becomes  a  brute,  A  cup  of  drink 
degrades  his  moral  nature  below  that  of  a  swine.  Again,  a 
violent  emotion  of  pity  or  horror  makes  him  vomit,  A  lancet 
will  restore  him  from  delirium  to  clear  thought.  Excess  of 
thought  will  waste  his  sinews.  Excess  of  muscular  exercise 
will  deaden  thought.  An  emotion  Avill  double  the  strength 
of  his  muscles.  And  at  last  the  prick  of  a  needle  or  a  grain 
of  mineral  will  in  an  instant  lay  to  rest  forever  his  body  and 
its  unity,  and   all   the   spontaneous   activities   of  intelligence, 


8  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

feeling  and  action,  with  whfch  that  compound  organism  was 
charged. 

These  are  the  obvious  and  ancient  observations  about  the 
human  organism.  But  modem  philosophy  and  science  have 
carried  these  hints  into  complete  explanations.  By  a  vast 
accumulation  of  proof  positive  tliought  at  last  has  established 
a  distinct  correspondence  between  every  process  of  thought  or 
of  feeling  and  some  corporeal  phenomenon.  Even  when  we 
cannot  explain  the  precise  relation,  we  can  show  that  definite 
correlations  exist.  To  positive  methods,  every  fact  of  thinking 
reveals  itself  as  having  functional  relation  with  molecular 
change.  Every  fact  of  will  or  of  feeling  is  in  similar  relation 
with  kindred  molecular  facts.  And  all  these  facts  again  have 
some  relation  to  each  other.  Hence  we  have  established  an 
organic  correspondence  in  all  manifestations  of  human  life. 
To  think  implies  a  corresponding  adjustment  of  molecular 
activity.  To  feel  emotion  implies  nervous  organs  of  feeling. 
To  will  implies  vital  cerebral  hemispheres.  Observation, 
reflection,  memory,  imagination,  judgment,  have  all  been 
analysed  out,  till  they  stand  forth  as  functions  of  living 
organs  in  given  conditions  of  the  organism,  that  is  in  a 
particular  environment.  The  Avhole  range  of  man's  powers, 
from  the  finest  spiritual  sensibility  down  to  a  mere  automatic 
contraction,  falls  into  one  coherent  scheme  :  being  all  the 
multiform  functions  of  a  living  organism  in  presence  of  its 
encircUng  conditions. 

But  complex  as  it  is,  there  is  no  confusion  in  this  whole 
when  conceived  by  positive  methods.  No  rational  thinker 
now  pretends  that  imagination  is  simply  the  vibration  of  a 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  9 

particular  fibre.  No  man  can  explain  volition  by  purely 
anatomical  study.  Whilst  keeping  in  view  the  due  relations 
between  moral  and  corporeal  facts,  we  distinguish  moral  from 
biologic  facts,  moral  science  from  biology.  Moral  science  is 
based  upon  biological  science  ;  but  it  is  not  comprised  in  it : 
it  has  its  own  special  facts  and  its  own  special  methods,  though 
always  in  the  sphere  of  law.  Just  so,  the  mechanism  of  the 
body  is  based  upon  mechanics,  would  be  unintelligible  but  for 
mechanics,  but  could  not  be  explained  by  mechanics  alone,  or 
by  anything  but  a  complete  anatomy  and  biology.  To  explain 
the  activity  of  the  intellect  as  included  in  the  activity  of  the 
body,  is  as  idle  as  to  explain  the  activity  of  the  body  as  in- 
cluded in  the  motion  of  solid  bodies.  And  it  is  equally  idle 
to  explain  the  activity  of  the  will,  or  the  emotions,  as  included 
in  the  theory  of  the  intellect.  All  the  spheres  of  human  life 
are  logically  separable,  though  they  are  organically  interde- 
pendent. Now  the  combined  activity  of  the  human  powers 
organized  around  the  highest  of  them  we  call  the  Soul.  The 
combination  of  intellectual  and  moral  energy  which  is  the 
source  of  Religion,  we  call  the  spiritual  life.  The  explaining 
the  spiritual  side  of  life  by  physical  instead  of  moral  and 
spiritual  reasoning,  we  call  materialism. 

The  consensus  of  the  human  faculties,  which  we  call  the 
Soul,  comprises  all  sides  of  human  nature  according  to  one 
homogeneous  theory.  But  the  intuitional  methods  ask  as  to 
insert  into  the  midst  of  this  harmonious  system  of  parts,  as  an 
underlying  explanation  of  it,  an  indescribable  entity  ;  and  to 
this  hypothesis,  since  the  days  of  Descartes  (or  possibly  of 
Aquinas),  the  good  old  word  Soul  has  been  usually  restricted. 


10  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

How  and  when  this  entity  ever  got  into  the  organism,  how  it 
abides  in  it,  what  are  its  relations  to  it,  how  it  acts  on  it,  why 
and  when  it  goes  out  of  it — all  is  mystery.  We  ask  for  some 
evidence  of  the  existence  of  any  such  entity  ;  the  answer  is,  we 
must  imagine  it  in  order  to  explain  the  organism.  We  ask  what 
are  its  methods,  its  laws,  its  affinities  ;  we  are  told  that  it  simply 
has  none,  or  none  knowable.  We  ask  for  some  description  of 
it,  of  its  course  of  development,  for  some  single  fact  about  it, 
stateable  in  terms  of  the  rest  of  our  knowledge  ;  the  reply  is — 
mystery,  absence  of  everything  so  stateable  or  cognizable,  a- 
line  of  poetry,  or  an  ejaculation.  It  has  no  place,  no  matter, 
no  modes,  neither  evolution  nor  decay  ;  it  is  without  body, 
parts,  or  passions  :  a  spiritual  essence,  incommensurable,  in- 
comparable, indescribable.  Yet  with  all  this,  it  is,  we  are  told. 
an  entity,  the  most  real  and  perfect  of  all  entities  short  of  the 
divine. 

If  we  ask  why  we  are  to  assume  the  existence  of  something 
of  which  we  have  certainly  no  direct  evidence,  and  which  is  so 
wrapped  in  mystery  that  for  practical  purposes  it  becomes  a 
nonentity,  we  are  told  that  we  need  to  conceive  it,  because  a 
mere  organism  cannot  act  as  we  see  the  human  organism  act. 
Why  -not  ?  They  say  there  must  be  a  principle  within  as  the 
cause  of  this  life.  But  what  do  we  gain  by  supposing  a  '  prin- 
ciple?' The  'principle'  only  adds  a  fresh  difficulty.  Why 
should  a  *  principle,'  or  an  entity,  be  more  capable  of  possessing 
these  marvellous  human  powers  than  the  human  organism  ? 
Besides,  we  shall  have  to  imagine  a  *  principle'  to  explain  not 
only  why  a  man  can  feel  affection,  but  also  why  a  dog  can  feel 
affection.     If   a  mother  cannot  love  her  child — merely  qua 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  " 

human  organism — unless  her  love  be  a  manifestation  of  an 
eternal  soul,  how  can  a  cat  love  her  kittens — merely  qua  feline 
organism — without  an  immaterial  principle  or  soul  ?  Nay,  we 
shall  have  to  go  on  to  invent  a  principle  to  account  for  a  tree 
growing,  or  a  thunderstorm  roaring,  and  for  every  force  of 
nature.  Now  this  very  supposition  was  made  in  a  way  by  the 
Greeks,  and  to  some  extent  by  Aquinas,  the  authors  of  the 
vast  substructure  of  anima  underlying  all  nature,  of  which  our 
human  Soul  is  the  fragment  that  alone  survives.  One  by  one 
the  steps  in  this  series  of  hypothesis  have  faded  away.  Greek 
and  mediaeval  philosophy  imagined  that  every  activity  resulted 
not  from  the  body  which  exhibited  the  activity,  but  from  some 
mysterious  entity  inside  it.  If  marble  was  hard,  it  had  a  *  form' 
informing  its  hardness  ;  if  a  blade  of  grass  sprang  up,  it  had  a 
vegetative  spirit  mysteriously  impelling  it ;  if  a  dog  obeyed  his 
master,  it  had  an  animal  spirit  mysteriously  controlling  its 
organs.  The  mediaeval  physicists,  as  Moliere  reminds  us, 
thought  that  opium  induced  sleep  quia  est  in  eo  virtus  dormitiva. 
Nothing  was  allowed  to  act  as  it  did  by  its  own  force  or 
vitality.  In  every  explanation  of  science  we  were  told  to 
postulate  an  intercalary  hypothesis.  Of  this  huge  mountain 
of  figment,  the  notion  of  man's  immaterial  Soul  is  the  one 
feeble  residuum. 

Orthodoxy  has  so  long  been  accustomed  to  take  itself  for 
granted,  that  we  are  apt  to  forget  how  very  short  a  period  of 
human  history  this  sublimated  essence  has  been  current.  From 
Plato  to  Hegel  the  idea  has  been  continually  taking  fresh 
shapes.  There  is  not  a  trace  of  it  in  the  Bible  in  its  present 
sense,  and  nothing  in  the  least  akin  to  it  in  the  Old  Testament. 


12  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Till  the  time  of  Aquinas  theories  of  a  material  soul,  as  a  sort 
of  gas,  were  never  eliminated  ;  and  until  the  time  of  Descartes, 
our  present  ideas  of  the  antithesis  of  Soul  and  Body  were 
never  clearly  defined.  Thus  the  Bible,  the  Fathers,  and  the 
Mediaeval  Church,  as  was  natural  when  philosophy  was  in  a 
state  of  flux,  all  represented  the  Soul  in  very  different  ways ; 
and  none  of  these  ways  were  those  of  a  modem  divine.  It  is 
a  curious  instance  of  the  power  of  words  that  the  practical 
weight  of  the  popular  religion  is  now  hung  on  a  metaphysical 
hypothesis,  which  itself  has  been  in  vogue  for  only  a  few 
centuries  in  the  history  of  speculation,  and  which  is  now  be- 
come to  those  trained  in  positive  habits  of  thought  a  mere 
juggle  of  ideas. 

We  have  in  all  this  sought  only  to  state  what  we  mean  by 
man's  soul,  and  what  we  do  not  mean.  But  we  make  no 
attempt  to  prove  a  negative,  or  to  demonstrate  the  non-exist- 
ence of  the  supposed  entity.  Our  purpose  now  is  a  very 
different  one.  We  start  out  from  this — that  this  positive 
mode  of  treating  man  is  in  this,  as  in  other  things,  morally 
sufficient ;  that  it  leaves  no  voids  and  chasms  in  human  life  ; 
that  the  moral  and  religious  sequelae  which  are  sometimes 
assigned  to  its  teaching  have  no  foundation  in  fact.  We  say, 
that  on  this  basis,  not  only  have  we  an  entrance  into  the 
spiritual  realm,  but  that  we  have  a  firmer  hold  on  the  spiritual 
life  than  on  the  basis  of  hypothesis.  On  this  theory,  the  world 
beyond  the  grave  is  in  closer  and  truer  relation  to  conduct 
than  on  the  spiritualist  theory.  We  look  on  man  as  man,  not 
as  man  plus  a  heterogenous  entity.  And  we  think  that  we 
lose  nothing,  but  gain  much  thereby,  in  the  religious  as  well  as 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  JJ 

in  the  moral  world.  We  do  not  deny  the  conceivable  exist- 
ence of  the  heterogeneous  entity.  But  we  believe  that  human 
nature  is  adequately  equipped  on  human  and  natural  grounds 
without  this  disparate  nondescript. 

Let  us  be  careful  to  describe  the  method  we  employ  as  that 
which  looks  on  man  as  man,  and  repudiate  the  various  labels, 
such  as  materialist,  physical,  unspiritual  methods,  and  the  like, 
which  are  used  as  equivalent  for  the  rational  or  positive  method 
of  treating  man.  The  method  of  treating  man  as  man  insists, 
at  least  as  much  as  any  other  method,  that  man  has  a  moral, 
emotional,  religious  life,  but  perfectly  co-ordinate  with  that 
physical  life,  and  to  be  studied  on  similar  scientific  methods. 
The  spiritual  sympathies  of  man  are  undoubtedly  the  highest 
part  of  human  nature  ;  and  our  method  condemns  as  loudly  as 
any  system  physical  explanations  of  spiritual  life.  We  claim 
the  right  to  use  the  terms  'soul,'  ^spiritual,'  and  the  like,  in 
their  natural  meaning.  In  the  same  way,  we  think  that  there 
are  theories  which  are  justly  called  *  Materialist,'  that  there 
are  physical  conceptions  of  human  nature  which  are  truly 
dangerous  to  morality,  to  goodness,  and  religion.  It  is  some- 
times thought  to  be  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  reality  of  this 
heterogenous  entity  of  the  soul,  that  otherwise  we  must  assume 
the  most  spiritual  emotions  of  man  to  be  a  secretion  of  cerebral 
matter,  and  that,  whatever  the  difficulties  of  conceiving  the 
union  of  Soul  and  Body,  it  is  something  less  difficult  than  the 
conceiving  that  the  nerves  think,  or  the  tissues  love.  We  re- 
pudiate such  language  as  much  as  any  one  can,  but  there  is 
another  alternative.  It  is  possible  to  invest  with  the  highest 
dignity  the;  spiritual  life  of  mankind  by  treating  it  as  an  ulti- 


14  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

mate  fact,  without  trying  to  find  an  explanation  for  it  either 
in  a  perfectly  unthinkable  hypothesis  or  in  an  irrational  and 
debasing  physicism. 

We  certainly  do  reject,  as  earnestly  as  any  school  can,  that 
which  is  most  fairly  called  Materialism,  and  we  will  second 
every  word  of  those  who  cry  out  that  civilization  is  in  danger 
if  the  workings  of  the  human  spirit  are  to  become  questions 
of  physiology,  and  if  death  is  the  end  of  a  man,  as  it  is  the 
end  of  a  sparrow.  We  not  only  assent  to  such  protests,  but 
we  see  very  pressing  need  for  making  them.  It  is  a  corrupting 
doctrine  to  open  a  brain,  and  to  tell  us  that  devotion  is  a  defi- 
nite molecular  change  in  this  and  that  convolution  of  grey  pulp, 
and  that  if  man  is  the  first  of  living  animals,  he  passes  away 
after  a  short  space  like  the  beasts  that  perish.  And  all  doc- 
trines, more  or  less,  do  tend  to  this,  which  offer  physical  theo- 
ries as  explaing  moral  phenomena,  which  deny  man  a  spiritual 
in  addition  to  a  moral  nature,  which  limit  his  moral  life  to  the 
span  of  his  bodily  organism,  and  which  have  no  place  for 
*  religion'  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word. 

It  is  true  that  in  this  age,  or  rather  in  this  country,  we  seldom 
hear  the  stupid  and  brutal  materialism  which  pretends  that  the 
subtleties  of  thought  and  emotion  are  simply  this  or  that  agita- 
tion in  some  grey  matter,  to  be  ultimately  expounded  by  the 
professors  of  grey  matter.  But  this  is  hardly  the  danger  which 
besets  our  time.  The  true  materialism  to  fear  is  the  prevailing 
tendency  of  anatomical  habits  of  mind  or  specialist  habits  of 
mind  to  intrude  into  the  regions  of  religion  and  philosophy. 
A  man  whose  whole  thoughts  are  absorbed  in  cuttting  up 
dead  monkeys  and  live  frogs  has  no  more  business  to  dogma- 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  15 

lize  about  religion,  than  a  mere  chemist  to  improvise  a  zoology. 
Biological  reasoning  about  spiritual  things  is  as  presumptions 
as  the  theories  of  an  electrician  about  the  organic  facts  of 
nervous  life.  We  live  amidst  a  constant  and  growing  usurpa- 
tion of  science  in  the  province  of  philosophy  ;  of  biology  in 
the  province  of  sociology ;  of  physics  in  that  of  religion. 
Nothing  is  more  common  tlian  the  use  of  the  term  science, 
when  what  is  meant  is  merely  physical  and  physiological 
science,  not  social  and  moral  science.  The  arrogant  attempt 
to  dispose  of  the  deepest  moral  truths  of  human  nature  on  a 
bare  physical  or  physiological  basis  is  almost  enough  to  justify 
the  insurrection  of  some  impatient  theologians  against  science 
itself.  It  is  impossible  not  to  sympathize  with  men  who  at 
least  are  defending  the  paramount  claim  of  the  moral  laws  and 
the  religious  sentiment.  The  solution  of  the  dispute  is  of 
course  that  physicists  and  theologians  have  each  hold  of  a 
partial  truth.  As  the  latter  insist,  the  grand  problems  of 
man's  life  must  be  ever  referred  to  moral  and  social  argu- 
ment ;  but  then,  as  the  physicists  insist,  this  moral  and  social 
argument  can  only  be  built  up  on  a  physical  and  physiological 
foundation.  The  physical  part  of  science  is  indeed  merely 
the  vestibule  to  social,  and  thence  to  moral  science  ;  and  of 
science  in  all  its  forms  the  philosophy  of  religion  alone  holds 
the  key.  The  true  Materialism  lies  in  the  habit  of  scientific 
specialists  to  neglect  all  philosophical  and  religious  synthesis. 
It  is  marked  by  the  ignoring  of  religion,  the  passing  by  on  the 
other  side,  and  shutting  the  eyes  to  the  spiritual  history  of 
mankind.  The  spiritual  traditions  of  mankind,  a  supreme 
philosophy  of  life  and  thought,  religion  in  the  proper  sense 


l6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

of  the  word,  all  these  have  to  play  a  larger  and  ever  larger 
part  in  human  knowledge ;  not  as  we  are  so  often  told,  and 
so  commonly  is  assumed,  a  waning  and  vanishing  part.  And 
it  is  in  this  field,  the  field  which  has  so  long  been  abandoned 
to  theology,  that  Positivism  is  prepared  to  meet  the  theologians. 
We  at  any  rate  do  not  ask  them  to  submit  religion  to  the  test 
of  the  scalpel  or  the  electric  battery.  It  is  true  that  we  base 
our  theory  of  society  and  our  theory  of  morals,  and  hence  our 
religion  itself,  on  a  curriculum  of  physical,  and  especially  of 
biological  science.  It  is  true  that  our  moral  and  social  science 
is  but  a  prolongation  of  these  other  sciences.  But  then  we 
insist  that  it  is  not  science  in  the  narrow  sense  which  can 
order  our  beliefs,  but  Philosophy ;  not  science  which  can 
solve  our  problems  of  life,  but  Religion.  And  religion  demands 
for  its  understanding  the  religious  mind  and  the  spiritual 
experience. 

Does  it  seem  to  anyone  a  paradox  to  hold  such  language,  and 
yet  to  have  nothing  to  say  about  the  immaterial  entity  which 
many  assume  to  be  the  cause  behind  this  spiritual  life  ?  The 
answer  is  that  we  occupy  ourselves  with  this  spiritual  life  as  an 
ultimate  fact,  and  consistently  with  the  whole  of  our  philosophy, 
we  decline  so  assign  a  cause  at  all.  We  argue,  with  the  the- 
ologians, that  it  is  ridiculous  to  go  to  the  scalpel  for  an  adequate 
account  of  a  mother's  love  ;  but  we  do  not  think  it  is  explained 
(any  more  than  it  is  by  the  scalpel)  by  a  hypothesis  for  which 
not  only  is  there  no  shadow  of  evidence,  but  which  cannot 
even  be  stated  in  philosophic  language.  We  find  the  same  ab- 
surdity in  the  notion  that  maternal  love  is  a  branch  of  the 
anatomy  of  the  mammce,  and  in  the  notion  that  the  phenomena 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  17 

of  lactation  are  produced  by  an  immaterial  entity.  Both  are 
forms  of  the  same  fallacy,  that  of  trying  to  reach  ultimate 
causes  instead  of  studying  laws.  We  certainly  do  find  that  ma- 
ternal love  and  lactation  have  close  correspondences,  and  that 
both  are  phenomena  of  certain  female  organisms.  And  we  say 
that  to  talk  of  maternal  love  being  exhibited  by  an  entity  which 
not  only  is  not  a  female  organism,  but  is  not  an  organism  at 
all,  is  to  use  language  which  to  us,  at  least,  is  unintelligible. 

The  philosophy  which  treats  man  as  man  simply  affirms  that 
man  loves,  thinks,  acts,  not  that  the  ganglia,  or  the  sinuses,  or 
any  organ  of  man,  loves  and  thinks  and  acts.  The  thoughts, 
aspirations,  and  impulses  are  not  secretions,  and  the  science 
which  teaches  us  about  secretions  will  not  teach  us  much  about 
them  ;  our  thoughts,  aspirations,  and  impulses  are  faculties  of  a 
man.  Now,  as  a  man  implies  a  body,  so  we  say  these  also  im- 
ply a  body.  And  to  talk  to  us  about  a  bodyless  being  thinking 
and  loving  is  simply  to  talk  about  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
Nothing. 

This  fundamental  position  each  one  determines  according  to 
the  whole  bias  of  his  intellectual  and  moral  nature.  But  on 
the  positive,  as  on  the  the  theological,  method  there  is  ample 
scope  for  the  spiritual  life,  for  moral  responsibility,  for  the 
world  beyond  the  grave,  its  hopes  and  its  duties  ;  which  remain 
to  us  perfectly  real  without  the  unintelligible  hypothesis. 
However  much  men  cling  to  the  hypothesis  from  old  association, 
if  they  reflect,  they  will  find  that  they  do  not  use  it  to  give  them 
any  actual  knowledge  about  man's  spiritual  life  ;  that  all  their 
methodical  reasoning  about  the  moral  world  is  exclusively 
based  on  the  phenomena  of  this  world,  and  not  on  the  phe- 


l8  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

nomena  of  any  other  world.  And  thus  the  absence  of  tlie 
hypothesis  altogether  does  not  make  the  serious  difference 
which  theologians  suppose. 

To  follow  out  this  into  particulars :  Analysis  of  human 
nature  shows  us  man  with  a  great  variety  of  faculties  ;  his 
moral  powers  are  just  as  distinguishable  as  his  intellectual 
powers ;  and  both  are  mentally  separable  from  his  physical 
powers.  Moral  and  mental  laws  are  reduced  to  something  like 
system  by  moral  and  mental  science,  with  or  without  the 
theological  hypothesis.  The  most  extreme  form  of  materialism 
does  not  dispute  that  moral  and  mental  science  is  for  logical 
purposes  something  more  than  physical  science.  So,  the  most 
extreme  form  of  spiritualism  gets  its  mental  and  moral  science 
by  observation  and  argument  from  phenomena ;  it  doe^  not,  or 
it  does  not  any  longer,  build  such  science  by  abstract  deduction 
from  any  proposition  as  to  an  immaterial  entity.  There  have 
been,  in  ages  past,  attempts  to  do  this.  Plato,  for  instance,  at- 
tempted to  found,  not  only  his  mental  and  moral  philosophy, 
but  his  general  philosophy  of  the  universe,  by  deduction  from 
a  mere  hypothesis.  He  imagined  immaterial  entities,  the  ideas, 
of  things  inorganic,  as  much  as  organic.  But  then  Plato  was 
consistent  and  had  the  courage  of  his  opinions.  If  he  imagined 
an  idea,  or  soul,  of  a  man,  he  imagined  one  also  for  a  dog,  for 
a  tree,  for  a  statue,  for  a  chair.  He  thought  that  a  statue  or  a 
chair  were  what  they  are,  by  virtue  of  an  immaterial  entity 
which  gave  them  form.  The  hypothesis  did  not  add  much  to 
the  art  of  statuary  or  to  that  of  the  carpenter ;  nor,  to  do  him 
justice,  did  Plato  look  for  much  practical  result  in  these 
spheres.     One  form  of  the  doctrine  alone  survives, — that  man 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  19 

is  what  he  is  by  virtue  of  an  immaterial  entity  temporarily  in- 
dwelling in  his  body.  But,  though  the  hypothesis  survives,  it 
is  in  no  sense  any  longer  the  basis  of  the  science  of  human  na- 
ture with  any  school.  No  school  is  now  content  to  sit  in  its 
study  and  evolve  its  knowledge  of  the  moral  qualities  of  man 
out  of  abstract  deductions  from  the  conception  of  an  imma- 
terial entity.  All  without  exception  profess  to  get  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  moral  qualities  by  observing  the  qualities  which 
men  actually  do  exhibit  or  have  exhibited.  And  those  who 
are  persuaded  that  man  has,  over  and  above  his  man's  nature, 
an  immaterial  entity,  find  themselves  discussing  the  laws  of 
thought  and  of  character  on  a  common  ground  with  those  who 
regard  man  as  man — i.  e.,  who  regard  man's  nature  as  capable 
of  being  referred  to  a  homogenous  system  of  law.  Spiritualists 
and  materialists,  however  much  they  may  differ  in  their  expla- 
nations of  moral  phenomena,  describe  their  relations  in  the 
same  language,  the  language  of  law,  not  of  illuminism. 

Those,  therefore,  who  dispense  with  a  transcendental  explana- 
tion are  just  as  free  as  those  who  maintain  it,  to  handle  the 
spiritual  and  religious  phenomena  of  human  nature,  treating 
them  simply  as  phenomena.  No  one  has  ever  suggested  that 
the  former  philosophy  is  not  quite  as  well  entitled  to  analyse 
the  intellectual  faculties  of  man  as  the  stoutest  believer  in  the 
immaterial  entity.  It  would  raise  a  smile  now-a-days  to  hear  it 
said  that  such  a  one  must  be  incompetent  to  treat  of  the  canons 
of  inductive  reasoning,  because  he  was  unorthodox  as  to  the 
immortality  of  the  Soul.  And  if,  notwithstanding  this  unortho- 
doxy,  he  is  thought  competent  to  investigate  the  laws  of 
thought,  why  not  the  moral  laws,  the  sentiments,  and  the  emo- 


20  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

tions  ?  As  a  fact,  every  moral  faculty  of  man  is  recognized  by 
him  just  as  much  as  by  any  transcendentalist.  He  does  not 
limit  himself,  any  more  than  the  theologian  does,  to  mere 
morality.  He  is  fully  alive  to  the  spiritual  emotions  in  all  their 
depth,  purity,  and  beauty.  He  recognizes  in  man  the  yearning 
for  a  power  outside  his  individual  self  which  he  may  venerate, 
a  love  for  the  author  of  his  chief  good,  the  need  for  sympathy 
with  something  greater  than  himself.  All  these  are  positive 
facts  which  rest  on  observation,  quite  apart  from  any  explana- 
tion of  the  hypothetical  cause  of  these  tendencies  in  man. 
There,  at  any  rate,  the  scientific  observer  finds  them ;  and  he 
is  at  liberty  to  give  them  quite  as  high  a  place  in  his  scheme  of 
human  nature  as  the  most  complete  theologian.  He  may  pos- 
sibly give  them  a  far  higher  place,  and  bind  them  far  more 
truly  into  the  entire  tissue  of  his  whole  view  of  life,  because 
they  are  built  up  for  him  on  precisely  the  same  ground  of  ex- 
perience as  all  the  rest  of  his  knowledge,  and  have  no  element 
at  all  heterogeneous  from  the  rest  of  life.  With  the  language 
of  spiritual  emotion  he  is  perfectly  in  unison.  The  spirit  of  de- 
votion, of  spiritual  communion  with  an  ever-present  power,  of 
sympathy  and  fellowship  with  the  living  world,  of  awe  and  sub- 
mission towards  the  material  world,  the  sense  of  adoration, 
love,  resignation,  mystery,  are  at  least  as  potent  with  the  one 
system  as  with  the  other.  He  can  share  the  religious  emotion 
of  every  age,  and  can  enter  into  the  language  of  every  truly 
religious  heart.  For  myself,  I  believe  that  this  is  only  done  on 
a  complete  as  well  as  a  real  basis  in  the  religion  of  Humanity, 
but  we  need  not  confine  the  present  argument  to  that  ground. 
I  venture  to  believe  that  this  spirit  is  truly  shared  by  all,  what- 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  2t 

ever  their  hypothesis  about  the  human  soul,  who  treat  these 
highest  emotions  of  man's  nature  as  facts  of  primary  value,  and 
who  have  any  intelligible  theory  whereby  these  emotions  can 
be  aroused. 

All  positive  methods  of  treating  man  of  a  comprehensive 
kind  adopt  to  the  full  all  that  has  ever  been  said  about  the  dig- 
nity of  man's  moral  and  spiritual  life,  and  treat  these  phe- 
nomena as  distinct  from  the  intellectual  and  the  physical  life. 
These  methods  also  recognize  the  unity  of  consciousness,  the 
facts  of  conscience,  the  sense  of  identity,  and  the  longing  for 
perpetuation  of  that  identity.  They  decline  to  explain  these 
phenomena  by  the  popular  hypotheses  ;  but  they  neither  deny 
their  existence,  nor  lessen  their  importance.  Man,  they  argue, 
has  a  complex  existence,  made  up  of  the  phenomena  of  his 
physical  organs,  of  his  intellectual  powers,  of  his  moral  faculties, 
crowned  and  harmonized  ultimately  by  his  religious  sympathies, 
— love,  gratitude,  veneration,  submission,  towards  the  dominant 
force  by  which  he  finds  himself  surrounded.  I  use  words 
which  are  not  limited  to  a  particular  philosophy  or  religion — 
I  do  not  now  confine  my  language  to  the  philosophy  or  religion 
of  Comte — for  this  same  conception  of  man  is  common  to  many 
philosophies  and  many  religions.  It  characterizes  such  systems 
as  those  of  Spinosa  or  Shelley  or  Fichte  as  much  as  those  of 
Confucius  or  Bouddha.  In  a  word,  the  reality  and  the  su- 
premacy of  the  spiritual  life  have  never  been  carried  further 
than  by  men  who  have  departed  most  widely  from  the  popular 
hypotheses  of  the  immaterial  entity. 

Many  of  these  men,  no  doubt,  have  indulged  in  hypotheses 
of  their  own  quite  as  arbitrary  as  those  of  theology.     It  is 


22  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

characteristic  of  the  positive  thought  of  our  age  that  it  stards 
upon  a  firmer  basis.  Though  not  confounding  the  moral  facts 
with  the  physical,  it  will  never  lose  sight  of  the  correspondence 
and  consensus  between  all  sides  of  human  life.  Led  by  an 
enormous  and  complete  array  of  evidences,  it  associates  every 
fact  of  thought  or  of  emotion  with  a  fact  of  physiology,  with 
molecular  change  in  the  body.  Without  pretending  to  explain 
the  first  by  the  second,  it  denies  that  the  first  can  be  explained 
without  the  second.  But  with  this  solid  basis  of  reality  to  work 
on,  it  gives  their  place  of  supremacy  to  the  highest  sensibilities 
pf  man,  through  the  heights  and  depths  of  the  spiritual  life. 

Nothing  is  more  idle  than  a  discussion  about  words.  But 
when  some  deny  the  use  of  the  word  *  soul '  to  those  who  mean 
by  it  this  consensus,  and  not  any  immaterial  entity,  we  may  re- 
mind them  that  our  use  of  the  word  agrees  with  its  etymology 
and  its  history.  It  is  the  mode  in  which  it  is  used  in  the 
Bible,  the  well  spring  of  our  true  English  speech.  It  may,  in- 
deed, be  contended  that  there  is  no  instance  in  the  Bible  in 
which  Soul  does  mean  an  immaterial  entity,  the  idea  not  having 
been  familiar  to  any  of  the  writers,  with  the  doubtful  exception 
of  St.  Paul.  But  without  entering  upon  Biblical  philology,  it 
may  be  said  that  for  one  passage  in  the  Bible  in  which  the 
word  *  soul '  can  be  forced  to  bear  the  meaning  of  immaterial 
entity,  there  are  ten  texts  in  which  it  cannot  possibly  refer  to 
anything  but  breath,  life,  moral  sense,  or  spiritual  emotion. 
When  the  Psalmist  says,  *  Deliver  my  soul  from  death,'  '  Heal 
my  soul,  for  I  have  sinned,'  *  My  soul  is  cast  down  within  me,' 
*  Return  unto  my  rest,  O  my  soul,'  he  means  by  *  soul '  what  we 
mean, — the  conscious  unity  of  our  being  culminating  in  its  re- 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  23 

ligious  emotions  ;  and  until  we  find  some  English  word  that 
better  expresses  this  idea,  we  shall  continue  to  use  the  phrase- 
ology of  David. 

It  is  not  merely  that  we  are  denied  the  language  of  religion, 
but  we  sometimes  find  attempts  to  exclude  us  from  the  thing. 
There  are  some  who  say  that  worship,  spiritual  life,  and  that 
exaltation  of  the  sentiments  which  we  call  devotion,  have  no 
possible  meaning  unless  applied  to  the  special  theology  of  the 
particular  speaker.  A  little  attention  to  history,  a  single  reflec- 
tion on  religion  as  a  whole,  suffice  to  show  the  hollowness  of 
this  assumption.  If  devotion  mean  the  surrender  of  self  to  an 
adored  Power,  there  has  been  devotion  in  creeds  with  many 
gods,  with  one  God,  with  no  gods  ;  if  spiritual  life  mean  the 
cultivation  of  this  temper  towards  moral  purification,  there  was 
spiritual  life  long  before  the  notion  of  an  immaterial  entity  in- 
side the  human  being  was  excogitated  ;  and  as  to  worship,  men 
have  worshipped,  with  intense  and  overwhelming  passion,  all 
kinds  of  objects,  organic  and  inorganic,  material  and  spiritual, 
abstract  ideas  as  well  as  visible  forces.  Is  it  implied  that  Con- 
fucius, and  the  countless  millions  who  have  followed  him,  had 
no  idea  of  religion,  as  it  is  certain  that  they  had  none  of  theol- 
ogy ;  that  Bouddha  and  the  Bouddhists  were  incapable  of 
spiritual  emotion  ;  that  the  Fire-worshippers  and  the  Sun- 
worshippers  never  practised  worship  ;  that  the  pantheists  and 
the  humanists,  from  Marcus  Aurelius  to  Fichte,  had  the  springs 
of  spiritual  life  dried  up  in  them  for  want  of  an  Old  or  New 
Testament !  If  this  is  intended,  one  can  only  wonder  at  the 
power  of  a  self-complacent  conformity  to  close  men's  eyes  to 
the  native  dignity  of  man.     Religion,  and  its  elements  in  emo- 


24  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

tion — attachment,  veneration,  love — are  as  old  exactly  as 
human  nature.  They  moved  the  first  men,  and  the  first 
women.  They  have  found  a  hundred  objects  to  inspire  them, 
and  have  bowed  to  a  great  variety  of  powers.  They  were  in 
fuB  force  long  before  Theology  was,  and  before  the  rise  of 
Christianity  ;  and  it  would  be  strange  indeed  if  they  should 
cease  with  the  decline  of  either.  It  is  not  the  emotional  ele- 
ments of  Religion  which  fail  us.  For  these,  with  the  growing 
goodness  of  mankind,  are  gaining  in  purity  and  strength. 
Rather,  it  is  the  intellectual  elements  of  religion  which  are  con- 
spicuously at  fault.  We  need  to-day,  not  the  faculty  of  wor- 
ship (that  is  ever  fresh  in  the  heart),  but  a  clearer  vision  of  the 
power  we  should  worship.  Nay,  it  is  not  we  who  are  borrow- 
ing the  privileges  of  theology  :  rather  it  is  theology  which  seeks 
to  appropriate  to  itself  the  most  universal  privilege  of  man. 


II. 


The  rational  view  of  the  Soul  (we  insisted  in  a  previous  pa- 
per) would  remove  us  as  far  from  a  cynical  materialism  as  from 
a  fantastic  spiritualism.  It  restores  to  their  true  supremacy  in 
human  life  those  religious  emotions  which  materialism  forgets  ; 
whilst  it  frees  us  from  the  idle  figment  which  spiritualism  would 
foist  upon  human  nature. 

We  entirely  agree  with  the  theologians  that  our  age  is  beset 
with  a  grievous  danger  of  materialism.  There  is  a  school  of 
teachers  abroad,  and  they  have  found  an  echo  here,  who  dream 
that  victorious  vivisection  will  ultimately  win  them  anatomical 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  25 

solutions  of  man's  moral  and  spiritual  mysteries.  Such  unholy 
nightmares,  it  is  true,  are  not  likely  to  beguile  many  minds  in 
a  country  like  this,  where  social  and  moral  problems  are  still 
in  their  natural  ascendant.  But  there  is  a  subtler  kind  of  ma- 
terialism of  which  the  dangers  are  real.  It  does  not  indeed 
put  forth  the  bestial  sophis>m,  that  the  apex  of  philsosphy  is  to 
be  won  by  improved  microscopes  and  new  batteries.  But  then 
it  has  nothing  to  say  about  the  spiritual  life  of  man  ;  it  has  no 
particular  religion  ;  it  ignores  the  Soul.  It  fills  the  air  with 
pseans  to  science  ;  it  is  never  weary  of  vaunting  the  scientific 
methods,  the  scientific  triumphs.  But  it  always  means  physi- 
cal, not  moral  science  ;  intellectual,  not  religious  conquests. 
It  shirks  the  question  of  questions — to  what  human  end  is  this 
knowledge — how  shall  man  thereby  order  his  life  as  a  whole — 
where  is  he  to  find  the  object  of  his  yearnings  of  spirit  ?  Of 
the  spiritual  history  of  mankind  it  knows  as  little,  and  thinks 
as  little,  as  of  any  other  sort  of  Asiatic  devil-worship.  At  the 
spiritual  aspirations  of  the  men  and  women  around  us,  ill  at 
ease  for  want  of  some  answer,  it  stares  blankly,  as  it  does  at 
some  spirit-rapping  epidemic.  "  What  is  that  to  us  ?^-see  thou 
to  that " — is  all  that  it  can  answer  when  men  ask  it  for  a  re- 
ligion. It  is  of  the  religion  of  all  sensible  men,  the  religion 
which  all  sensible  men  never  tell.  With  a  smile  or  shrug  of 
the  shoulders  it  passes  by  into  the  whirring  workshops  of 
science  (that  is,  the  physical  prelude  of  science)  ;  and  it  leaves 
the  spiritual  life  of  the  Soul  to  the  spiritualists,  theological  or 
nonsensical  as  the  case  may  be,  wishing  them  both  in  heaven. 
This  is  the  materialism  to  fear. 

The  theologians  and  the  vast  sober  mass  of  serious  men  and 


26  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

women  who  want  simply  to  live  rightly  are  quite  right  when 
they  shun  and  fear  a  school  that  is  so  eager  about  cosmology 
and  biology,  whilst  it  leaves  morality  and  religion  to  take  care 
of  themselves.  And  yet  they  know  all  the  while  that  before 
the  advancing  line  of  positive  thought  they  are  fighting  a  for- 
lorn hope  ;  and  they  see  their  own  line  daily  more  and  more 
demoralised  by  the  consciousness  that  they  have  no  rational 
plan  of  campaign.  They  know  that  their  own  account  of  the 
Soul,  of  the  spiritual  life,  of  Providence,  of  Heaven,  is  daily 
shifting,  is  growing  more  vague,  more  inconsistent,  more  various. 
They  hurry  wildly  from  one  untenable  position  to  another, 
like  a  routed  and  disorganised  army.  In  a  religious  discussion 
years  ago  we  once  asked  one  of  the  Broad  Church,  a  disciple 
of  one  of  its  eminent  founders,  what  he  understood  by  the 
third  Person  of  the  Trinity  ;  and  he  said  doubtfully  "  that  he 
fancied  there  was  a  sort  of  a  something."  Since  those  days 
the  process  of  disintegration  and  vaporisation  of  belief  has 
gone  on  rapidly ,  and  now  very  religious  minds,  and  men  who 
think  themselves  to  be  religious,  are  ready  to  apply  this  "  sort 
of  a  something "  to  all  the  verities  in  turn.  They  half  hope 
that  there  is  "  a  sort  of  a  something  "  fluttering  about,  or  inside, 
their  human  frames,  that  there  may  turn  out  to  be  a  "  some- 
thing "  somewhere  after  Death,  and  that  there  must  be  a  sort 
of  a  somebody  or  (as  the  theology  of  Culture  will  have  it)  a 
sort  of  a  something  controlling  and  comprehending  human 
life.  But  the  more  thoughtful  spirits,  not  being  professionally 
engaged  in  a  doctrine,  mostly  limit  themselves  to  a  pious  hope 
that  there  may  be  something  in  it,  and  that  we  shall  know 
some  day  what  it  is. 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  27 

Now  theologians  and  religious  people  unattached  must 
know  that  this  will  never  serve — that  this  is  paltering  with  the 
greatest  of  all  things.  What  then  is  the  only  solution  which 
can  ultimateily  satisfy  both  the  devotees  of  science  and  the  be- 
lievers in  religion  ?  Surely  but  this,  to  make  religion  scientific 
by  placing  religion  under  the  methods  of  science.  Let  Science 
come  to  see  that  religion,  morality,  life,  are  within  its  field,  or 
rather  are  the  main  part  of  its  field.  Let  Religion  come  to  see 
that  it  can  be  nothing  but  a  prolongation  of  science,  a  rational 
and  homogeneous  result  of  cosmology  and  biology,  not  a  mat- 
ter of  fantastic  guessing.  Then  there  will  be  no  true  science 
which  does  not  aim  at,  and  is  not  guided  by,  systematic  re- 
ligion. And  there  will  be  no  religion  which  pretends  to  any 
other  basis  but  positive  knowledge  and  scientific  logic.  But 
for  this  science  must  consent  to  add  spiritual  phenomena  to  its 
curriculum,  and  religion  must  consent  to  give  up  its  vapid  fig- 
ments. 

Positivism  in  dealing  with  the  Soul  discards  the  exploded 
errors  of  the  materialists  and  the  spiritualists  alike.  On  the 
one  hand,  it  not  only  admits  into  its  studies  the  spiritual  life 
of  men,  but  it  raises  this  life  to  be  the  essential  business  of  all 
human  knowledge.  All  the  spiritual  sentiments  of  man,  the 
aspirations  of  the  conscious  soul  in  all  their  purity  and  pathos, 
the  vast  religious  experience  and  potentialities  of  the  hum.an 
heart  seen  in  the  history  of  our  spiritual  life  as  a  race — this  is, 
we  say,  the  principal  subject  of  science  and  of  philosophy. 
No  philosophy,  no  morality,  no  polity  can  rest  on  stable  foun- 
dations if  this  be  not  its  grand  aim  ;  if  it  have  not  ^  systematic 
creed,  a  rational  object  of  worship,  and  a  definite  discipline  of 


28  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

life.  But  then  we  treat  these  spiritual  functions  of  the  Soul, 
not  as  mystical  enigmas,  but  as  positive  phenomena,  and  we 
satisfy  them  by  philosophic  and  historic  answers  and  not  by 
naked  figments.  And  we  think  that  the  teaching  of  history  and 
a  true  synthesis  of  science  bring  us  far  closer  to  the  heart  of 
this  spiritual  life  than  do  any  spiritualist  guesses,  and  do  better 
to  equip  us  to  read  aright  the  higher  secrets  of  the  Soul : 
meaning  always  by  Soul  the  consensus  of  the  faculties  which 
observation  discovers  in  the  human  organism. 

On  the  other  hand,  without  entering  into  an  idle  dispute 
with  the  spiritualist  orthodoxy,  we  insist  on  regarding  this 
organism  as  a  perfectly  homogeneous  unit,  to  be  studied  from 
one  end  of  it  to  the  other  by  rational  scientific  methods.  We 
pretend  to  give  no  sort  of  cause  as  lying  behind  the  manifold 
powers  of  the  organism.  We  say  the  immaterial  entity  is 
something  which  we  cannot  grasp,  which  explains  nothing,  for 
which  we  cannot  have  a  shadow  of  evidence.  We  are  deter- 
mined to  treat  man  as  a  human  organism,  just  as  we  treat  a 
dog  as  a  canine  organism  ;  and  we  know  no  ground  for  saying, 
and  no  good  to  l>e  got  by  pretending,  that  man  is  a  human 
organism  plus  an  indescribable  entity.  We  say,  the  human 
organism  is  a  marvellous  thing,  sublime  if  you  will,  of  subtlest 
faculty  and  sensibility  ;  but  we,  at  any  rate,  can  find  nothing 
in  man  which  is  not  an  organic  part  of  this  organism  ;  Ave  find 
the  faculties  of  mind,  feeling,  and  will,  directly  dependent  on 
physical  organs  ;  and  to  talk  to  us  of  mind,  feeling,  and  will 
continuing  their  functions  in  the  absence  of  physical  organs 
and  visible  organisms,  is  to  use  language  which,  to  us  at  least, 
is  pure  nonsense. 


I 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  29 

And  now  to  turn  to  the  great  phenomenon  of  material  organ- 
isms which  we  call  Death.     The  human  organism,  like  every 
other  organism,  ultimately  loses  that  unstable  equilibrium  of  its 
correlated  forces  which  we  name  Life,  and  ceases  to  be  an  or- 
ganism or  system  of  organs,  adjusting  its  internal  relations  to 
its  external  conditions.     Thereupon  the  existence  of  the  com- 
plex independent  entity  to  which  we  attribute  consciousness, 
undoubtedly — i.e.  for  aught  we  know  to  the  contrary — comes 
to  an  end.     But  the  activities  of  this  organism  do  not  come  to 
an  end,  except  so  far  as  these  activities  need  fresh  sensations 
and  material  organs.     And  a  great  part  of  these  activities,  and 
far  the  noblest  part,  only  need  fresh  sensations  and  material 
organs  in  similar  organisms.     Whilst  there  is  an  abundance  of 
these  in  due  relation,  the  activities  go  on  ad  infinitum  with  in- 
creasing energy.     We  have  not  the  slightest  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  consciousness  of  the  organism  continues,  for  we  mean 
by  consciousness  the  sum  of  sensations  of  a  particular  organ- 
ism,  and   the  particular  organism   being  dissolved,   we   have 
nothing  left  whereto  to  attribute  consciousness,  and  the  pro- 
posal strikes  us  like  a  proposal  to  regard  infinity  as  conscious. 
So,  of  course,  with  the  sensations  separately,  and  with  them 
the  power  of  accumulating  knowledge,  of  feeling,  thinking,  or 
of  modifying  the  existence  in  correspondence  with  the  outward 
environment.     Life,  in  the  technical  sense  of  the  word,  is  at  an 
end,  but  the  activities  of  which  that  life  is  the  source  were 
never  so  potent.     Our  age  is  familiar  enough  with  the  truth  of 
the  persistence  of  energy,  and  no  one  supposes  that  with  the 
dissolution  of  the  body  the  forces  of  its  material  elements  are 
lost.     They  only  pass  into  new  combinations  and  continue  to 


30  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

work  elsewhere.  Far  less  is  the  energy  of  the  activities  lost. 
The  earth,  and  every  country,  every  farmstead,  and  every  city 
on  it,  are  standing  witnesses  that  the  physical  activities  are  not 
lost.  As  century  rolls  after  century,  we  see  every  age  more 
potent  fruits  of  the  labor  which  raised  the  Pyramids,  or  won 
Holland  from  the  sea,  or  carved  the  Theseus  out  of  marble. 
The  bodily  organisms  which  wrought  them  have  passed  into 
gases  and  earths,  but  the  activity  they  displayed  is  producing 
the  precise  results  designed  on  a  far  grander  scale  in  each 
generation.  Much  more  do  the  intellectual  and  moral  energies 
work  unceasingly.  Not  a  single  manifestation  of  thought  or 
feeling  is  without  some  result  so  soon  as  it  is  communicated  to 
a  similar  organism.  It  passes  into  the  sum  of  his  mental  and 
moral  being. 

But  there  is  about  the  persistence  of  the  moral  energies  this 
special  phenomenon.  It  marks  the  vast  interval  between  phy- 
sical and  moral  science.  The  energies  of  material  elements,  so 
far  as  we  see,  disperse,  or  for  the  most  part  disperse.  The 
energies  of  an  intellectual  and  moral  kind  are  very  largely  con- 
tinued in  their  organic  unities.  The  consensus  of  the  mental, 
of  the  moral,  of  the  emotional  powers  may  go  on,  working  as  a 
whole,  producing  precisely  the  same  results,  with  the  same  in- 
dividuality, whether  the  material  organism,  the  source  and 
original  base  of  these  powers,  be  in  physical  function  or  not 
The  mental  and  moral  powers  do  not,  it  is  true,  increase  and 
grow,  develope  and  vary  within  themselves.  Nor  do  they  in 
their  special  individuality  produce  visible  results,  for  they  are 
no  longer  in  direct  relations  with  their  special  material  organ- 
isms.    But  the  mental  and  moral  powers  are  not  dispersed  like 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  31 

gases.  They  retain  their  unity,  they  retain  their  organic  char- 
acter, and  they  retain  the  whole  of  their  power  of  passing  into 
and  stimulating  the  brains  of  living  men  ;  and  in  these  they 
carry  on  their  activity  precisely  as  they  did,  whilst  the  bodies 
in  which  they  were  formed  absorbed  and  exhaled  material  sub- 
stance. 

Nay,  more  ;  the  individuality  and  true  activity  of  these  men- 
tal and  moral  forces  is  often  not  manifest,  and  sometimes  is 
not  complete,  so  long  as  the  organism  continues  its  physical 
functions.  Newton,  we  may  suppose,  has  accomplished  his 
great  researches.  They  are  destined  to  transform  half  the  phil- 
osophy of  mankind.  But  he  is  old,  and  incapable  of  fresh 
achievements.  We  will  say  he  is  feeble,  secluded,  silent,  and 
lives  shut  up  in  his  rooms.  The  activity  of  his  mighty  intellec- 
tual nature  is  being  borne  over  the  world  on  the  wings  of 
Thought,  and  works  a  revolution  at  every  stroke.  But  other- 
wise the  man  Newton  is  not  essentially  distinguishable  from  the 
nearest  infirm  pauper,  and  has  as  few  and  as  feeble  relations 
with  mankind.  At  last  the  man  Newton  dies — that  is,  the  body 
is  dispersed  into  gas  and  dust.  But  the  world,  which  is  affec- 
ted enormously  by  his  intellect,  is  not  in  the  smallest  degree 
affected  by  his  death.  His  activity  continues  the  same  ;  if  it 
were  worth  while  to  conceal  the  fact  of  his  death,  no  one  of 
the  millions  who  are  so  greatly  affected  by  his  thoughts  would 
perceive  it  or  know  it.  If  he  had  discovered  some  means  of 
prolonging  a  torpid  existence  till  this  hour,  he  might  be  living 
now,  and  it  would  not  signify  to  us  in  the  slightest  degree 
whether  his  body  breathed  in  the  walls  of  his  lodging  or  moul- 
dered in  the  vaults  of  the  Abbey. 


32  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

It  may  be  said  that  if  it  does  not  signify  much  to  us,  it  sig* 
nifies  a  great  deal  to  Isaac  Newton.  But  is  this  true  ?  He  no 
longer  eats  and  sleeps,  a  burden  to  himself ;  he  no  longer  is 
destroying  his  great  name  by  feeble  theology  and  querulous 
pettiness.  But  if  the  small  weaknesses  and  wants  of  the  flesh 
are  ended  for  him,  all  that  makes  Newton  (and  he  had  always 
lived  for  his  posthumous,  not  his  immediate  fame)  rises  into 
greater  activity  and  purer  uses.  We  make  no  mystical  or 
fanciful  divinity  of  Death  ;  we  do  not  deny  its  terrors  or  its 
evils.  We  are  not  responsible  for  it,  and  should  welcome  any 
reasonable  prospect  of  eliminating  or  postponing  this  fatality, 
that  waits  upon  all  organic  nature.  But  it  is  no  answer  to  phil- 
osophy or  science  to  retort  that  Death  is  so  terrible,  therefore 
man  must  be  designed  to  escape  it.  There  are  savages  who 
persistently  deny  that  men  do  die  at  all,  either  their  bodies  or 
their  souls,  asserting  that  the  visible  consequences  of  death  are 
either  an  illusion  or  an  artfully  contrived  piece  of  acting  on 
the  part  of  their  friends,  who  have  really  decamped  to  the 
happy  hunting-fields.  This  seems  on  the  whole  a  more  rational 
theory  than  that  of  immaterial  souls  flying  about  space,  as  the 
spontaneous  fancies  of  savages  are  sometimes  more  rational 
than  the  elaborate  hypotheses  of  metaphysics. 

But  though  we  do  not  presume  to  apologise  for  death,  it  is 
easy  to  see  that  many  of  the  greatest  moral  and  intellectual  re- 
sults of  life  are  only  possible,  can  only  begin,  when  the  claims 
of  the  animal  life  are  satisfied  ;  when  the  stormy,  complex,  and 
chequered  career  is  over,  and  the  higher  tops  of  the  intellectual 
or  moral  nature  alone  stand  forth  in  the  distance  of  time. 
What  was  the  blind  old  harper  of  Scio  to  his  contemporaries. 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE,  33 

or  the  querulous  refugee  from  Florence,  or  even  the  boon- 
companion  and  retired  playright  of  Stratford,  or  the  blind  and 
stern  old  malignant  of  Bunhill  Fields  ?  The  true  work  of 
Socrates  and  his  life  only  began  with  his  resplendent  death,  to 
say  nothing  of  yet  greater  religious  teachers,  whose  names  I 
refrain  from  citing ;  and  as  to  those  whose  lives  have  been  cast 
in  conflicts — the  Caesars,  the  Alfreds,  the  Hildebrands,  the 
Cromwells,  the  Fredericks — it  is  only  after  death,  oftenest  in 
ages  after  death,  that  they  cease  to  be  combatants,  and  become 
creators.  It  is  not  merely  that  they  are  only  recognised  in 
after-ages  ;  the  truth  is,  that  their  activity  only  begins  when 
the  surging  of  passion  and  sense  ends,  and  turmoil  dies  away. 
Great  intellects  and  great  characters  are  necessarily  in  advance 
of  their  age  ;  the  care  of  the  father  and  the  mother  begins  to 
tell  most  truly  in  the  ripe  manhood  of  their  children,  when  the 
parents  are  often  in  the  grave,  and  not  in  the  infancy  which 
they  see  and  are  confronted  with.  The  great  must  always  feel 
with  Kepler, — '  It  is  enough  as  yet  if  I  have  a  hearer  now  and 
then  in  a  century.'  John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in 
the  grave,  but  his  soul  is  marching  along. 

We  can  trace  this  truth  best  in  the  case  of  great  men  ;  but 
it  is  not  confined  to  the  great.  Not  a  single  act  of  thought  or 
character  ends  with  itself.  Nay,  more  ;  not  a  single  nature  in 
its  entirety  but  leaves  its  influence  for  good  or  for  evil.  As  a 
fact  the  good  prevail ;  but  all  act,  all  continue  to  act  indefin- 
itely, often  in  ever-widening  circles.  Physicists  amuse  us  by 
tracing  for  us  the  infinite  fortunes  of  some  wave  set  in  motion 
by  force,  its  circles  and  its  repercussions  perpetually  transmit- 
ted in  new  complications.     But  the  career  of  a  single  intellect 


34  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

and  character  is  a  far  more  real  force  when  it  meets  with 
suitable  intellects  and  characters  into  whose  action  it  is  incor- 
porated. Every  life  more  or  less  forms  another  life,  and  lives 
in  another  life.  Civilization,  nation,  city,  imply  this  fact. 
There  is  neither  mysticism  nor  hyperbole,  but  simple  observa- 
tion in  the  belief,  that  the  career  of  every  human  being  in  so- 
ciety does  not  end  with  the  death  of  its  body.  In  some  sort 
its  higher  activities  and  potency  can  only  begin  truly  when 
change  is  no  longer  possible  for  it.  The  worthy  gain  in  influ- 
ence and  in  range  at  each  generation,  just  as  the  founders  of 
some  populous  race  gain  a  greater  fatherhood  at  each  succeed-  • 
ing  growth  of  their  descendants.  And  in  some  infinitesimal 
degree,  the  humblest  life  that  ever  turned  a  sod  sends  a  wave — 
no,  more  than  a  wave,  a  life — through  the  ever-growing  harmony 
of  human  society.  Not  a  soldier  died  at  Marathon  or  Salamis, 
but  did  a  stroke  by  which  our  thought  is  enlarged  and  our 
standard  of  duty  formed  to  this  day. 

Be  it  remembered  that  this  is  not  hypothesis,  but  something 
perfectly  real, — we  may  fairly  say  undeniable.  We  are  not 
inventing  an  imaginary  world,  and  saying  it  must  be  real 
because  it  is  so  pleasant  to  think  of ;  we  are  only  repeating 
truths  on  which  our  notion  of  history  and  society  is  based. 
The  idea,  no  doubt,  is  usually  limited  to  the  famous,  and  to 
the  great  revolutions  in  civilization.  But  no  one  who  thinks 
it  out  carefully  can  deny  that  it  is  true  of  every  human  being 
in  society  in  some  lesser  degree.  The  idea  has  not  been,  or 
is  no  longer,  systematically  enforced,  invested  with  poetry  and 
dignity,  and  deepened  by  the  solemnity  of  religion.  But  why 
is  that  ?    Because  theological  hypotheses  of  a  new  and  hetero- 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  35 

genous  existence  have  deadened  our  interest  in  the  realities, 
the  grandeur,  and  the  perpetuity  of  our  earthly  life.     In  the 
best  days  of  Rome,  even  without   a  theory  of  history  or   a 
science  of  society,  it  was   a  living  faith,  the   true  religion  of 
that  majestic  race.     It  is  the  real  sentiment  of   all  societies 
where  the  theological  hypothesis  has  disappeared.     It  is  no 
doubt  now  in  England  the  great  motive  of  virtue  and  energy. 
There  have  been  few  seasons  in  the  worlds  history  when  the 
sense  of  moral  responsibility  and  moral  survival  after  death 
was  more  exalted  and  more  vigorous  than  with  the  companions 
of  Vergniaud  and  Danton,  to  whom  the  dreams  of  theology 
were  hardly  intelligible.     As  we  read  the  calm  and  humane 
words  of  Condorcet  on  the  very  edge  of  his  yawning  grave, 
we  learn  how  the  conviction  of  posthumous  activity  (not  of 
posthumous  fame),  how  the  consciousness  of  a  coming  incor- 
poration  with   the   glorious   future   of    his   race,  can    give   a 
patience   and  a   happiness   equal   to   that  of    any  martyr  of 
theology. 

It  would  be  an  endless  inquiry  to  trace  the  means  whereby 
this  sense  of  posthumous  participation  in  the  life  of  our  fellows 
can  be  extended  to  the  mass,  as  it  certainly  affects  already  the 
thoughtful  and  the  refined.  Without  an  education,  a  new 
social  opinion,  without  a  religion — I  mean  an  organized  re- 
ligion, not  a  vague  metaphysic — it  is  doubtless  impossible 
that  it  should  become  universal  and  capable  of  overcoming 
selfishness.  But  make  it  at  once  the  basis  of  philosophy,  the 
standard  of  right  and  wrong,  and  the  centre  of  a  religion,  and 
this  will  prove,  perhaps,  an  easier  task  than  that  of  teaching 
Greeks  aijd  Romans,  Syrians  and  Moors,  to  look  forward  to  a 


.36  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

future  life  of  ceaseless  psalmody  in  an  immaterial  heaven. 
The  astonishing  feat  was  performed  ;  and,  perhaps,  it  may  be 
easier  to  fashion  a  new  public  opinion,  requiring  merely  that 
an  accepted  truth  of  philosophy  should  be  popularized,  which 
is  already  the  deepest  hope  of  some  thoughtful  spirits,  and 
which  does  not  take  the  suicidal  course  of  trying  to  cast  out 
the  devil  of  selfishness  by  a  direct  appeal  to  the  personal  self. 

It  is  here  that  the  strength  of  the  human  future  over  the 
celestial  future  is  so  clearly  pre-eminent.  Make  the  future 
hope  a  social  activity,  and  we  give  to  the  present  life  a  social 
ideal.  Make  the  future  hope  personal  beatitude,  and  person- 
ality is  stamped  deeper  on  every  act  of  our  daily  life.  Now 
we  make  the  future  hope,  in  the  truest  sense,  social,  inasmuch 
as  our  future  is  simply  an  active  existence  prolonged  by  society. 
And  our  future  hope  rests  not  in  any  vague  yearning,  of  which 
we  have  as  little  evidence  as  we  have  definite  conception  :  it 
rests  on  a  perfectly  certain  truth,  accepted  by  all  thoughtful 
minds,  the  truth  that  the  actions,  feelings,  thoughts  of  every 
one  of  us — our  minds,  our  characters,  our  souls  as  organic 
wholes — do  marvellously  influence  and  mould  each  other ; 
that  the  highest  part  •  of  ourselves,  the  abiding  part  of  us, 
passes  into  other  lives  and  continues  to  live  in  other  lives. 
Can  we  conceive  a  more  potent  stimulus  to  rectitude,  to  daily 
and  hourly  striving  after  a  true  life,  and  this  ever-present 
sense  that  we  are  indeed  immortal ;  not  that  we  have  an 
immortal  something  within  us,  but  that  in  very  truth  we  our- 
selves, our  thinking,  feeling,  acting  personalities,  are  immortal  ; 
nay,  cannot  die,  but  must  ever  continue  what  we  make  them, 
working  and  doing,  if  no  longer  receiving  and  enjoying  ?    And 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE,  37 

not  merely  we  ourselves,  in  our  personal  identity,  are  immortal, 
but  each  act,- thought,  and  feeling  is  immortal ;  and  this  immor- 
tality is  not  some  ecstatic  and  indescribable  condition  in  space, 
but  activity  on  earth  in  the  real  and  known  work  of  life,  in  the 
welfare  of  those  whom  we  have  loved,  and  in  the  happiness  of 
those  who  come  after  us. 

And  can  it  be  difficult  to  idealize  and  give  currency  to  a 
faith,  which  is  a  certain  and  undisputed  fact  of  common  sense 
as  well  as  of  philosopy  ?  As  we  live  for  others  in  life,  so  we 
live  in  others  after  death,  as  others  have  lived  in  us,  and  all  for 
the  common  race.  How  deeply  does  such  a  belief  as  this 
bring  home  to  each  moment  of  life  the  mysterious  perpetuity 
of  ourselves  !  For  good,  for  evil,  we  cannot  die  ;  we  cannot 
shake  ourselves  free  from  this  eternity  of  our  faculties.  There 
is  here  no  promise,  it  is  true,  of  eternal  sensations,  enjoyments, 
meditations.  There  is  no  promise,  be  it  plainly  said,  of  any- 
thing but  an  immortality  of  influence,  of  spiritual  work,  of 
glorified  activity.  We  cannot  even  say  that  we  shall  continue 
to  love  ;  but  we  know  that  we  shall  be  loved.  It  may  well  be 
that  we  shall  consciously  know  no  hope  ourselves  ;  but  we 
shall  inspire  hopes.  It  may  be  that  we  shall  not  think  ;  but 
others  will  think  our  thoughts,  and  enshrine  our  minds.  If 
no  sympathies  shall  thrill  along  our  nerves,  we  shall  be  the 
spring  of  sympathy  in  distant  generations  ;  and  that,  though 
we  be  the  humblest,  and  the  least  of  all  the  soldiers  in  the 
human  host,  the  least  celebrated  and  the  worst  remembered. 
For  our  lives  live  when  we  are  most  forgotten  ;  and  not  a  cup 
of  water  that  we  may  have  given  to  an  unknown  sufferer,  or  a 
wise  word  spoken  in  season  to  a  child,  but  has  added  (whether 

276178 


38  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

we  remember  it,  whether  others  remember  it  or  not)  a  streak 
of  happiness  and  strength  to  the  world.  Our  earthly  frames, 
like  the  grain  of  wheat,  may  be  laid  in  the  earth — and  this 
image  of  our  great  spiritual  Master  is  more  fit  for  the  social 
than  the  celestial  future — but  the  grain  shall  bear  spiritual 
fruit,  and  multiply  in  kindred  natures  and  in  other  selves. 

It  is  a  merely  verbal  question  if  this  be  the  life  of  the  Soul 
when  the  Soul  means  the  sum  of  the  activities,  or  if  there  be 
any  immortality  where  there  is  no  consciousness.  It  is  enough 
for  us  that  we  can  trust  to  a  real  prolongation  of  our  highest 
activity  in  the  sensible  lives  of  others,  even  though  our  own 
forces  can  gain  nothing  new,  and  are  not  reflected  in  a  sensitive 
body.  We  do  not  get  rid  of  Death,  but  we  transfigure  Death- 
Does  any  religion  profess  to  do  more  ?  It  is  enough  for  any 
creed  that  it  can  teach  non  omnis  mortar ;  it  would  be  gross 
extravagance  to  say  omnis  non  moriar,  no  part  of  me  shall  die. 
Death  is  the  one  inevitable  law  of  Life.  The  business  of  re- 
ligion is  to  show  us  what  are  its  compensations.  The  spirit- 
ualist orthodoxy,  like  every  other  creed,  is  willing  to  allow  that 
death  robs  us  of  a  great  deal,  that  very  much  of  us  does  die  ; 
nay,  it  teaches  that  this  dies  utterly,  forever,  leaving  no  trace 
but  dust.  And  thus  the  spiritualist  orthodoxy  exaggerates 
death,  and  adds  a  fresh  terror  to  its  power.  We,  on  the  con- 
trary, would  seek  to  show  that  much  of  us,  and  that  the  best 
of  us,  does  not  die,  or  at  least  does  not  end.  And  the  differ- 
ence between  our  faith  and  that  of  the  orthodox  is  this  :  we 
look  to  the  permanence  of  the  activities  which  give  others 
happiness  ;  they  look  to  the  permanence  of  the  consciousness 
which  can  enjoy  happiness.    Which  is  the  nobler  ? 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  39 

What  need  we  then  to  promise  or  to  hope  more  than  an 
eternity  of  spiritual  influence  ?  Yet,  after  all,  'tis  no  question 
as  to  what  kind  of  eternity  man  would  prefer  to  select.  We 
have  no  evidence  that  he  has  any  choice  before  him.  If  we 
were  creating  a  universe  of  our  own  and  a  human  race  on  an 
ideal  mould,  it  might  be  rational  to  discuss  what  kind  of 
eternity  was  the  most  desirable,  and  it  might  then  become  a 
question  if  we  should  not  begin  by  eliminating  death.  But 
as  we  are,  with  death  in  the  world,  and  man  as  we  know  him 
submitting  to  the  fatality  of  his  nature,  the  rational  inquiry  is 
this — how  best  to  order  his  life,  and  to  use  the  eternity  that 
he  has.  And  an  immortality  of  prolonged  activity  on  earth 
he  has  as  certainly  as  he  has  civilization,  or  progress,  or  society. 
And  the  wise  man  in  the  evening  of  life  may  be  well  content 
to  say  :  *  I  have  worked  and  thought,  and  have  been  conscious 
in  the  flesh  ;  I  have  done  with  the  flesh,  and  therewith  with 
the  toil  of  thought  and  the  troubles  of  sensation  ;  I  am  ready 
to  pass  into  the  spiritual  community  of  human  souls,  and  when 
this  man's  flesh  wastes  away  from  me,  may  I  be  found  worthy 
to  become  part  of  the  influence  of  humanity  itself,  and  so 

Join  the  choir  invisible 
Whose  music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world,' 

That  the  doctrine  of  the  celestial  future  appeals  to  the 
essence  of  self  appears  very  strongly  in  its  special  rebuke  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  social  future.  It  repeats,  '  We  agree  with 
all  you  say  about  the  prolonged  activity  of  man  after  death, 
we  see  of  course  that  the  solid  achievements  of  life  are  carried 
on,  and  we  grant  you  that  it  signifies  nothing  to  those  who 
profit  by  his  work  that  the  man  no  longer  breathes   in   the 


40  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

flesh  :  but  what  is  all  that  to  the  man,  to  you,  and  to  me  ?  we 
shall  not  feel  our  work,  we  shall  not  have  the  indescribable 
satisfaction  which  our  souls  now  have  in  living,  in  effecting 
our  work,  and  profiting  by  others.  What  is  the  good  of  man- 
kind to  me,  when  I  am  mouldering  unconscious  ? '  This  is 
the  true  materialism ;  here  is  the  physical  theory  of  another 
life  ;  this  is  the  unspiritual  denial  of  the  soul,  the  binding  it 
down  to  the  clay  of  the  body.  We  say,  *  All  that  is  great  in 
you  shall  not  end,  but  carry  on  its  activity  perpetually  and  in 
a  purer  way  ;'  and  you  reply,  *  What  care  I  for  what  is  great 
in  me,  and  its  possible  work  in  this  vale  of  tears :  I  want  to 
feel  life  ;  I  want  to  enjoy,  I  want  my  personality,' — in  other 
words,  '  I  want  my  senses,  I  want  my  body.'  Keep  your 
body  and  keep  your  senses  in  any  way  that  you  know.  We 
can  only  wonder  and  say,  with  Frederic  to  his  runaway 
soldiers,  *  WoUt  ihr  immer  leben  ? '  But  we,  who  know  that 
a  higher  form  of  activity  is  only  to  be  reached  by  a  subjective 
life  in  society,  will  continue  to  regard  a  perpetuity  of  sensation 
as  the  true  Hell,  for  we  feel  that  the  perpetual  worth  of  our 
lives  is  the  one  thing  precious  to  care  for,  and  not  a  vacuous 
eternity  of  consciousness. 

It  is  not  merely  that  this  eternity  of  the  tabor  is  so  gross,  so 
sensual,  so  indolent,  so  selfish  a  creed  ;  but  its  worst  evil  is 
that  it  paralyses  practical  life,  and  throws  it  into  discord.  A 
life  of  vanity  in  a  vale  of  tears  to  be  followed  by  an  infinity  of 
celestial  rapture,  is  necessarily  a  life  which  is  of  infinitesimal 
importance.  The  incongruity  of  the  attempts  to  connect  the 
two,  and  to  make  the  vale  of  tears  the  ante-chamber  or  the 
judgment-dock  of  heaven,  grows  greater  and  not  less  as  ages 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE.  41 

roll  on.  The  more  we  think  and  learn,  and  the  higher  rises 
our  social  philosophy  and  our  insight  into  human  destiny,  the 
more  the  reality  and  importance  of  the  social  future  impresses 
us,  whilst  the  fancy  of  the  celestial  future  grows  unreal  and 
incongruous.  As  we  get  to  know  what  thinking  means,  and 
feeling  means,  and  the  more  truly  we  understand  what  life 
means,  the  more  completely  do  the  promises  of  the  celestial 
transcendentalism  fail  to  interest  us.  We  have  come  to  see 
that  to  continue  to  live  is  to  carry  on  a  series  of  correlated 
sensations,  and  to/ set  in  motion  a  series  of  corresponding 
forces  ;  to  think  is  to  marshal  a  set  of  observed  perceptions 
with  a  view  to  certain  observed  phenomena ;  to  feel  implies 
something  of  which  we  have  a  real  assurance  affecting  our 
own  consensus  within.  The  whole  set  of  positive  thoughts 
compels  us  to  believe  that  it  is  an  infinite  apathy  to  which 
your  heaven  would  consign  us,  without  objects,  without  rela- 
tions, without  change,  without  growth,  without  action,  an 
absolute  nothingness,  nirvana  of  impotence, — this  is  not  life ; 
it  is  not  consciousness  ;  it  is  not  happiness.  So  far  as  we  can 
grasp  the  hypothesis,  it  seems  equally  ludicrous  and  repulsive. 
You  may  call  it  paradise  ;  but  we  call  it  conscious  annihilation. 
You  may  long  for  it,  if  you  have  been  so  taught ;  just  as  if 
you  had  been  taught  to  cherish  such  hopes,  you  might  be  now 
yearning  for  the  moment  when  you  might  become  the  imma- 
terial principle  of  a  comet,  or  as  you  might  tell  me,  that  you 
really  were  the  ether,  and  were  about  to  take  your  place  in 
Space.  This  is  how  these  sublimities  affect  us.  But  we  know 
that  to  many  this  future  is  one  of  spiritual  development,  a  life 
of  growth  and  continual  upsoaring  of  still  higher  affection. 


42  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

It  may  be  so ;  but  to  our  mind  these  are  contradictions  in 
terms.  We  cannot  understand  what  Hfe  and  affection  can 
mean,  where  you  postulate  the  absence  of  every  condition  by 
which  life  and  affection  are  possible.  Can  there  be  develop- 
ment where  there  is  no  law,  thought  or  affection,  where  object 
and  subject  are  confused  into  one  essence  ?  How  can  that  be 
existence,  where  everything  of  which  we  have  experience,  and 
everything  which  we  can  define,  is  presumed  to  be  unable  to 
enter  ?  To  us  these  things  are  all  incoherences  ;  and  in  the 
midst  of  practical  realities  and  the  solid  duties  of  life,  sheer 
impertinences.  The  field  is  full :  each  human  life  has  a  per- 
fectly real  and  a  vast  future  to  look  forward  to  ;  these  hyper- 
bolic enigmas  disturb  our  grave  duties  and  our  solid  hopes. 
No  wonder,  then,  whilst  they  are  still  so  rife,  that  men  are 
dull  to  the  moral  responsibility  which,  in  its  awfulness,  begins 
only  at  the  grave  ;  that  they  are  so  little  influenced  by  the 
futurity  which  will  judge  them  ;  that  they  are  blind  to  the 
dignity  and  beauty  of  death,  and  shuffle  off  the  dead  life  and 
the  dead  body  with  such  cruel  disrespect.  The  fumes  of  the 
celestial  immortality  still  confuse  them.  It  is  only  when  an 
earthly  future  is  the  fulfillment  of  a  worthy  earthly  life,  that  we 
can  see  all  the  majesty  as  well  as  the  glory  of  the  world  beyond 
the  grave  ;  and  then  only  will  it  fulfill  its  moral  and  religious 
purpose  as  the  great  guide  of  human  conduct. 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:  ' 


THE  SOUL  AND  FUTURE  LIFE. 

MR.  R.  H.  HUTTON. 

.  The  imaginative  glow  and  rhetorical  vivacity  which  are 
visible  throughout  Mr.  Harrison's  Essays  on  *'  The  Soul  and 
Future  Life  "  "^  are  very  remarkable,  and  should  guard  those  of 
us  who  recoil  in  amazement  from  its  creed  or  no-creed  from 
falling  into  the  very  common  mistake  of  assuming  that  the 
eflFect  which  such  ideas  as  these  produce  on  ourselves  is  the 
effect  which,  apart  from  all  question  of  the  other  mental  con- 
ditions surrounding  the  natures  into  which  they  are  received 
they  naturally  produce.  It  is  clear  at  least  that  if  they  ever 
tended  to  produce  on  the  author  of  these  papers  tiie  same  ef- 
fect which  they  not  only  tend  to  produce,  but  do  produce,  on 
myself,  that  tendency  must  have  been  so  completely  neutral- 
ized by  the  redundant  moral  energ}'  inherent  in  his  nature,  that 
the  characteristic  effect  which  I  should  have  ascribed  to  them 

^  The  Nineteenth  Century,  September  and  October,  1877. 
a  P.  I. 


44  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

is  absolutely  unverifiable,  and,  for  anything  we  have  the  right 
to  assert,  non-existent.  There  is  at  least  but  one  instance  in 
which  I  should  have  traced  any  shade  of  what  I  may  call  the 
natural  view  of  death  as  presented  in  the  light  of  this  creed, 
and  that  is  the  sentence  in  which  Mr.  Harrison  somewhat 
superfluously  disclaims — and  moreover  with  an  accent  of  hau- 
teur, as  though  he  resented  the  necessity  of  admitting  that 
death  is  a  disagreeable  certainty — his  own  or  his  creed's  res- 
ponsibility for  the  fact  of  death.  "  We  make  no  mystical  or 
fanciful  divinity  of  death,"  he  says  ;  "  we  do  not  deny  its 
terrors  or  its  evils.  We  are  not  responsible  for  it,  and  should 
welcome  any  reasonable  prospect  of  eliminating  or  postponing 
this  fatality  that  waits  upon  all  organic  nature."  After  read- 
ing that  admission,  I  was  puzzled  when  I  came  to  the  asser- 
tion that  "  we  who  know  that  a  higher  form  of  activity  is  only 
to  be  reached  by  a  subjective  life  in  society  will  continue  to 
regard  a  perpetuity  of  sensation  as  the  true  Hell,"  ^  a  sen- 
tence in  which  Mr.  Harrison  would  commonly  be  understood 
to  mean  that  he  and  all  his  friends,  if  they  had  a  vote  in  the 
matter,  would  give  a  unanimous  suffrage  against  this  "per- 
petuity of  sensation,"  and,  so  far  from  trying  to  eliminate  or 
postpone  death,  would  be  inclined  to  cling  to  and  even  hasten 
it.  For,  in  this  place  at  least,  it  is  not  the  perpetuation  of 
deteriorated  energies  of  which  Mr.  Harrison  speaks,  but  the 
perpetuation  of  life  pure  and  simple.  Indeed,  nothing  puz- 
zles me  more  in  this  paper  than  the  diametrical  contradic- 
tions both  of  feeling  and  thought  which  appear  to  me  to  be 
embodied  in  it.     Its  main  criticism  on  the  common  view  of 

ip.  40. 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM.  "  45 

immortality  seems  to  be  that  the  desire  for  it  is  a  grossly  sel- 
fish desire.  Nay,  nicknaming  the  conception  of  a  future  of  eter- 
nal praise,  '^  the  eternity  of  the  tabor,"  he  calls  it  a  conception 
"  so  gross,  so  sensual,  so  indolent,  so  selfish,"  as  to  be  worthy 
of  nothing  but  scorn.  I  think  he  can  never  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  realize  with  any  care  what  he  is  talking  of.  Whatever 
the  conception  embodied  in  what  Mr.  Harrison  calls  "ceaseless 
psalmody "  may  be — and  certainly  it  is  not  my  idea  of  im- 
mortal life — it  is  the  very  opposite  of  selfish.  No  conception 
of  life  can  be  selfish  of  which  the  very  essence  is  adoration, 
that  is,  wonder,  veneration,  gratitude  to  another.  And  gross 
as  the  conception  necessarily  suggested  by  psalm-singing  is, 
to  those  who  interpret  it,  as  we  generally  do,  by  the  stentorian 
shoutings  of  congregations  who  are  often  thinking  a  great 
deal  more  of  their  own  performances  than  of  the  object  of 
their  praise,  it  is  the  commonest  candor  to  admit  that  this 
conception  of  immortality  owes  its  origin  entirely  to  men 
who  were  thinking  of  a  life  absorbed  in  the  interior  con- 
templation of  a  God  full  of  all  perfections — a  contemplation 
breaking  out  into  thanksgiving  only  in  the  intensity  of  their 
love  and  adoration.  Whatever  else  this  conception  of  im- 
mortality may  be,  the  very  last  phrase  which  can  be  justly  ap- 
plied to  it  is  "gross"  or  "selfish."  I  fear  that  the  Posi- 
tivists  have  left  the  Christian  objects  of  their  criticism  so  far 
behind  that  they  have  ceased  not  merely  to  realise  what  Chris- 
tians mean,  but  have  sincerely  and  completely  forgotten  that 
Christians  ever  had  a  meaning  at  all.  That  Positivists  should 
regard  any  belief  in  the  "  beatific  vision  "  as  a  wild  piece  of 
fanaticism,  I  can  understand,  but  that,  entering  into  the  mean- 


46  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

ing  of  that  fanaticism,  they  should  describe  the  desire  for  it 
as  a  gross  piece  of  selfishness,  I  cannot  understand  ;  and  I 
think  it  more  reasonable,  therefore,  to  assume  that  they  have 
simply  lost  the  key  to  the  language  of  adoration.  Moreover, 
when  I  come  to  note  Mr.  Harrison's  own  conception  of  the 
future  life,  it  appears  to  me  that  it  differs  only  from  the  Chris- 
tian's conception  by  its  infinite  deficiencies,  and  in  no  respect 
by  superior  moral  qualities  of  any  kind.  That  conception  is, 
in  a  word,  posthumous  energy.  He  holds  that  if  we  could 
get  rid  of  the  vulgar  notion  of  a  survival  of  personal  sensa- 
tions and  of  growing  mental  and  moral  faculties  after  death, 
we  should  consecrate  the  notion  of  posthumous  activity,  and 
anticipate  with  delight  our  "  coming  incorporation  with  the 
glorious  future  of  our  race,"  as  we  cannot  possibly  consecrate 
those  great  hopes  now. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  what  is  this  "  glorious  future  of  our 
race  "  which  I  am  invited  to  contemplate  ?  It  is  the  life  in  a 
better  organized  society  of  a  vast  number  of  these  merely  tem- 
porary creatures  whose  personal  sensations,  if  they  ever  could 
be  "perpetuated,"  Mr.  Harrison  regards  as  giving  us  the  best 
conception  of  a  "  true  hell."  Now  if  an  improved  and  better 
organized  future  of  ephemerals  be  so  glorious  to  anticipate, 
what  elements  of  glory  are  there  in  it  which  would  not  belong 
to  the  immortality  looked  forward  to  by  the  Christian — a  far 
more  improved  future  of  endlessly  growing  natures  ?  Is  it 
the  mere  fact  that  I  shall  myself  belong  to  the  one  future 
which  renders  it  unworthy,  while  the  absence  of  any  "  perpe- 
tuity "  of  my  personal  "  sensations  "  from  the  other,  renders  it 
unselfish  ?    I  always  supposed  selfishness  to  consist,  not  in  the 


A  MODERN  •'  SYMPOSIUM.  "  47 

desire  for  any  noble  kind  of  life  in  which  I  might  share,  but  in 
the  preference  for  my  own  happiness  at  the  expense  of  some 
one  else's.  If  it  is  selfish  to  desire  the  perpetuation  of  a 
growing  life,  which  not  only  does  not,  as  far  as  I  know,  inter- 
fere with  the  volume  of  moral  growth  in  others,  but  certainly 
contributes  to  it,  then  it  must  be  the  true  unselfishness  to 
commit  suicide  at  once,  supposing  suicide  to  be  the  fi?iis  to 
personal  "sensation."  But  then  universal  suicide  would  be 
inconsistent  with  the  glorious  future  of  our  race,  so  I  suppose 
it  must  at  least  be  postponed  till  our  own  sensations  have  been 
so  far  "  perpetuated  "  as  to  leave  heirs  behind  them.  If  Con- 
dorcet  is  to  be  held  up  to  our  admiration  for  anticipating  on 
the  edge  of  the  grave  his  *'  coming  incorporation  with  the 
glorious  future  of  his  race,"  i.e.  with  ourselves  and  our  poster- 
ity, may  we  not  infer  that  there  is  something  in  ourselves,  i.e. 
in  human  society  as  it  now  exists,  which  was  worthy  of  his 
vision — something  in  which  we  need  not  think  it  "  selfish  "  to 
participate,  even  though  our  personal  "  sensations  "  do  form  a 
part  of  it  ?  Where  then  does  the  selfishness  of  desiring  to  share 
in  a  glorious  future  even  through  personal  "  sensations,"  begin  ? 
The  only  reasonable  or  even  intelligible  answer,  as  far  as  I 
can  see,  is  this  ; — as  soon  as  that  personal  "  sensation  "  for 
ourselves  excludes  a  larger  and  wider  growth  for  others,  but 
no  sooner.  But  then  no  Christian  ever  supposed  for  a  mo- 
ment that  his  personal  immortality  could  or  would  interfere  with 
any  other  being's  growth.  And  if  so,  where  is  the  selfishness  ? 
What  a  Christian  desires  is  a  higher,  truer,  deeper  union  with 
God  for  all,  himself  included.  If  his  own  life  drop  out  of  that 
future,  he  supposes  that  there  will  be  so  much  less  that  really 


48  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

does  glorify  the  true  righteousness,  and  no  compensating 
equivalent.  If  it  be  Mr.  Harrison's  mission  to  disclose  to  us 
that  any  perpetuity  of  sensation  on  our  own  parts  will  posi- 
tively exclude  something  much  higher  which  would  exist  if  we 
consented  to  disappear,  he  may,  I  think,  prove  his  case.  But 
in  the  absence  of  any  attempt  to  do  so,  his  conception  that  it 
is  noble  and  unselfish  to  be  more  than  content — ^grateful — ^for 
ceasing  to  live  any  but  a  posthumous  life,  seems  to  me  simply 
irrational. 

But,  further,  the  equivalent  which  Mr.  Harrison  offers  me 
for  becoming,  as  I  had  hoped  to  become,  in  another  world,  an 
altogether  better  member  of  a  better  society,  does  not  seem  to 
me  more  than  a  very  doubtful  good.  My  posthumous  activity 
will  be  of  all  kinds,  some  of  which  I  am  glad  to  anticipate, 
most  of  which  I  am  very  sorry  to  anticipate,  and  much  of 
which  I  anticipate  with  absolute  indifference.  Even  our  best 
actions  have  bad  effects  as  well  as  good.  Macaulay  and  most 
other  historians  held  that  the  Puritan  earnestness  expended  a 
good  deal  of  posthumous  activity  in  producing  the  license  of 
the  world  of  the  Restoration.  Our  activity,  indeed,  is  strictly 
posthumous  in  kind,  even  before  our  death,  from  the  very 
moment  in  which  it  leaves  our  living  mind  and  has  begun  to 
work  beyond  ourselves.  What  I  did  as  a  child  is,  in  this  sense, 
as  much  producing  posthumous  effects,  t.e.  effects  over  which  I 
can  no  longer  exert  any  control,  now,  as  what  I  do  before 
death  will  be  producing  posthumous  effects  after  my  death. 
Now  a  considerable  proportion  of  these  posthumous  activities 
of  ours,  even  when  we  can  justify  the  original  activity  as  all 
that  it  ought  to  have  been,  are  unfortunate.     Mr.  Harrison's 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  49 

papers,  for  instance,  have  already  exerted  a  very  vivid  and 
very  repulsive  effect  on  my  mind — an  activity  which  I  am  sure 
he  will  not  look  upon  with  gratification,  and  I  do  not  doubt 
that  what  I  am  now  writing  will  produce  the  same  effect  on 
him,  and  in  that  effect  I  shall  take  no  delight  at  all.  A  certain 
proportion,  therefore,  of  my  posthumous  activity  is  activity  for 
evil,  even  when  the  activity  itself  is  on  the  whole  good.  But 
when  we  come  to  throw  in  the  posthumous  activity  for  evil 
exerted  by  our  evil  actions  and  the  occasional  posthumous 
activity  for  good  which  evil  also  fortunately  exerts,  but  for  the 
good  results  of  which  we  can  take  no  credit  to  ourselves,  the 
whole  constitutes  a  milange  to  which,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
I  look  with  exceedingly  mixed  feelings,  the  chief  element  being 
humiliation,  though  there  are  faint  lights  mingled  with  it 
here  and  there.  But  as  for  any  rapture  of  satisfaction  in  con- 
templating my  "coming  incorporation  with  the  glorious  future 
of  our  race,"  I  must  wholly  and  entirely  disclaim  it.  What 
I  see  in  that  incorporation  of  mine  with  the  future  of  our 
race — ^glorious  or  the  reverse,  and  I  do  not  quite  see  why  the 
Positivist  thinks  it  so  glorious,  since  he  probably  holds  that  an 
absolute  term  must  be  put  to  it,  if  by  no  other  cause,  by  the 
gradual  cooling  of  the  sun — is  a  very  patchwork  sort  of  affair 
indeed,  a  mere  miscellany  of  bad,  good,  and  indifferent  with- 
out organization  and  without  unity.  What  I  shall  be,  for  in- 
stance, when  incorporated,  in  Mr.  Harrison's  phrase,  with  the 
future  of  our  race,  I  have  very  little  satisfaction  in  contem- 
plating, except  so  far,  perhaps,  as  my  "  posthumous  activity  " 
may  retard  the  acceptance  of  Mr.  Harrison's  glorious  antici- 
pations for  the  human  race.     One  great  reason  for  my  per- 

4 


,50  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

sonal  wish  for  a  perpetuity  of  volition  and  personal  energy  is, 
that  I  may  have  a  better  opportunity,  as  far  as  may  lie  in  me, 
to  undo  the  mischief  I  shall  have  done  before  death  comes  to 
my  aid.  The  vision  of  "  posthumous  activity"  ought  indeed,  I 
fancy,  to  give  even  the  best  of  us  very  little  satisfaction.  It 
may  not  be,  and  perhaps  is  not,  so  mischievous  as  the  vision 
of  "posthumous  fame,"  but  yet  it  is  not  the  kind  of  vision  which, 
to  my  mind,  can  properly  occupy  very  much  of  our  attention 
in  this  life.  Surely  the  right  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  concen- 
trate attention  on  the  life  of  the  living  moment — to  make  that 
the  best  we  can — and  then  to  leave  its  posthumous  effects, 
after  the  life  of  the  present  has  gone  out  of  it,  to  that  Power 
which,  far  more  than  anything  in  it,  transmutes  at  times  even 
our  evil  into  good,  though  sometimes,  too,  to  superficial  ap- 
pearance at  all  events,  even  our  good  into  evil.  The  desire  for 
an  immortal  life — that  is,  for  a  perpetuation  of  the  personal 
affections  and  of  the  will — seems  to  me  a  far  nobler  thing  than 
any  sort  of  anticipation  as  to  our  posthumous  activity ;  for 
high  affections  and  a  right  will  are  good  in  themselves,  and 
constitute,indeed,the  only  elements  in  Mr.  Harrison's  "glorious 
future  of  our  race  "  to  which  I  can  attach  much  value — ^while 
posthumous  activity  may  be  either  good  or  evil,  and  depends 
on  conditions  over  which  he  who  first  puts  the  activity  in 
motion,  often  has  no  adequate  control. 

And  this  reminds  me  of  a  phrase  in  Mr.  Harrison's  paper 
which  I  have  studied  over  and  over  again  without  making  out 
his  meaning.  I  mean  his  statement  that  on  his  own  hypoth- 
esis "  there  is  ample  scope  for  the  spiritual  life,  for  moral 
responsibility,  for  the  world  beyond  the  grave,  its  hopes  and 


A  MODERN  " SYMPOSIUM.'"  5 1 

its  duties,  which  remain  to  us  perfectly  real  without  the  unin- 
telligible hypothesis."  Now  I  suppose,  by  "  the  hopes  "  of 
"  the  world  beyond  the  grave,"  Mr.  Harrison  means  the  hopes 
we  form  for  the  "  future  of  our  race,"  and  that  I  under- 
stand. But  what  does  he  mean  by  its  "  duties  ? "  Not, 
surely,  our  duties  beyond  the  grave,  but  the  duties  of  those 
who  survive  us ;  for  he  expressly  tells  us  that  our  mental  and 
moral  powers  do  not  increase  and  grow,  develope  or  vary 
within  themselves — do  not,  in  fact,  survive  at  all  except  in 
their  effects — and  hence  duties  for  us  in  the  world  beyond 
the  grave  are,  I  suppose,  in  his  creed  impossible.  But  if  he 
only  means  that  there  will  be  duties  for  those  who  survive  us 
after  we  are  gone,  I  cannot  see  how  that  is  in  any  respect  a 
theme  on  which  it  is  either  profitable  or  consolatory  for  us  to 
dwell  by  anticipation.  One  remark  more  :  when  Mr.  Harrison 
says  ^  that  it  is  quite  as  easy  to  learn  to  long  for  the  moment 
when  you  shall  become  '*  the  immaterial  principle  of  a  comet," 
or  that  you  "  really  were  the  ether,  and  were  about  to  take 
your  place  in  space,"  as  to  long  for  personal  immortality — he 
is  merely  talking  at  random  on  a  subject  on  which  it  is  hardly 
seemly  to  talk  at  random.  He  knows  that  what  we  mean  by 
the  soul  is  that  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  sense  of  per- 
sonal identity — the  thread  of  the  continuity  running  through 
all  our  chequered  life  ;  and  how  it  can  be  equally  unmeaning 
to  believe  that  this  hitherto  unbroken  continuity  will  continue 
unbroken,  and  to  believe  that  it  is  to  be  transformed  into 
something  else  of  a  totally  different  kind,  I  am  not  only  una- 
ble to  understand,  but  even  to  understand  how  he    could 

I  P.  41 


53  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

seriously  so  conceive  us.  My  notion  of  myself  never  had  the 
least  connection  with  the  principle  of  any  part  of  any  comet, 
but  it  has  the  closest  possible  connection  with  thoughts,  affec- 
tions, and  volitions,  which,  as  far  as  I  know,  are  not  likely  to 
perish  with  my  body.  I  am  sorry  that  Mr.  Harrison  should 
have  disfigured  his  paper  by  sarcasms  so  inapplicable  and 
apparently  so  bitter  as  these. 

PROFESSOR  HUXLEY. 

Mr.  Harrison's  striking  discourse  on  the  soul  and  future 
life  has  a  certain  resemblance  to  the  famous  essay  on  the 
snakes  of  Ireland.  For  its  purport  is  to  show  that  there  is 
no  soul,  nor  any  future  life  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  terms. 
With  death,  the  personal  activity  of  which  the  soul  is  the 
popular  hypostasis  is  put  into  commission  among  posterity, 
and  the  future  life  is  an  immortality  by  deputy. 

Neither  in  these  views,  nor  in  the  arguments  by  which 
they  are  supported,  is  there  much  novelty.  But  that  which 
appears  both  novel  and  interesting  to  me  is  the  author's 
evidently  sincere  and  hearfelt  conviction  that  his  powerful 
advocacy  of  soulless  spirituality  and  mortal  immortality  is 
consistent  with  the  intellectual  scorn  and  moral  reprobation 
which  he  freely  pours  forth  upon  the  "  irrational  and  debas- 
ing physicism  "  of  materialism  and  materialists,  and  with  the 
wrath  with  which  he  visits  what  he  is  pleased  to  call  the  in- 
trusion of  physical  science,  especially  of  biology,  into  the  do- 
main of  social  phenomena. 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM.  "  53 

Listen  to  the  storm : — 

We  certainly  do  reject,  as  earnestly  as  any  school  can,  that  which  is 
most  fairly  called  Materialism,  and  we  will  second  every  word  of  those 
who  cryout  that  civilization  is  in  danger  if  the  workings  of  the  human  spirit 
are  to  become  questions  of  physiology,  and  if  death  is  the  end  of  a  man  as 
it  is  the  end  of  a  sparrow.  We  not  only  assent  to  such  protests,  but  we  see 
very  pressing  need  for  making  them.  It  is  a  corrupting  doctrine  to  open  a 
brain,  and  to  tell  us  that  devotion  is  a  definite  molecular  change  in  this  and 
that  convolution  of  grey  pulp,  and  that  if  man  is  the  first  of  living  animals, 
he  passes  away  after  a  short  space  like  the  beasts  that  perish.  And  all  doc- 
trines, more  or  less,  do  tend  to  this,  which  offer  physical  theories  as  ex- 
plaining moral  phenomena,  which  deny  man  a  spiritual  in  addition  to  a 
moral  nature,  which  limit  his  moral  life  to  the  span  of  his  bodily  organism, 
and  which  have  no  place  for  "  religion  "  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  words.^ 

Now  Mr.  Harrison  can  hardly  think  it  worth  while  to  at- 
tack imaginary  opponents,  so  that  I  am  led  to  believe  that 
there  must  be  somebody  who  holds  the  "  corrupting  doctrine  " 
"  that  devotion  is  a  definite  molecular  change  in  this  and  that 
convolution  of  grey  pulp."  Nevertheless,  my  conviction  is 
shaken  by  a  passage  which  occurs  at  p.  8  :  "  No  rational 
thinker  now  pretends  that  imagination  is  simply  the  vibration 
of  a  particular  fibre.'*  If  no  rational  thinker  pretends  this  of 
imagination,  why  should  any  pretend  it  of  devotion  ?  And  yet 
I  cannot  bring  myself  to  think  that  all  Mr.  Harrison's  passion- 
ate rhetoric  is  hurled  at  irrational  thinkers  :  surely  he  might 
leave  such  to  the  soft  influences  of  time  and  due  medical 
treatment  of  their  "  grey  pulp  "  in  Colney  Hatch  or  else- 
where. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Harrison  cannot  possibly  be  at- 
tacking those  who  hold  that  the  feeling  of  devotion  is  the  con- 

^  P.  14. 


54  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

comitant,  or  even  the  consequent,  of  a  molecular  change  in  the 
brain  ;  for  he  tells  us,  in  language  the  explicitness  of  which 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired,  that  , 

To  positive  methods,  every  fact  of  thinking  reveals  itself  as  having  func- 
tional relation  with  molecular  change.  Every  fact  of  will  or  of  feeling  is 
in  similar  relation  with  kindred  molecular  facts. 

On  mature  consideration  I  feel  shut  up  to  one  of  two  alter- 
native hypotheses.  *  Either  the  "  corrupting  doctrine  "  to  which 
Mr.  Harrison  refers  is  held  by  no  rational  tWnker — in  which 
case,  surely  neither  he  nor  I  need  trouble  ourselves  about  it — 
or  the  phrase,  "  Devotion  is  a  definite  molecular  change  in  this 
and  that  convolution  of  grey  pulp,"  means  that  devotion  has  a 
functional  relation  with  such  molecular  change  ;  in  which  case, 
it  is  Mr.  Harrison's  own  view,  and  therefore,  let  us  hope,  can- 
not be  a  "  corrupting  doctrine." 

I  am  not  helped  out  of  the  difficulty  I  have  thus  candidly 
stated,  when  I  try  to  get  at  the  meaning  of  another  hard  say- 
ing of  Mr.  Harrison's,  which  follows  after  the  "  corrupting  doc- 
trine "  paragraph  :  "  And  all  doctrines,  more  or  less,  do  tend 
to  this  [corrupting  doctrine],  which  offer  physical  theories  as 
explaining  moral  phenomena." 

Nevertheless,  on  pp.  7  and  8,  Mr.  Harrison  says  with  great 
force  and  tolerable  accuracy  : 

Man  is  one,  however  compound.  Fire  his  conscience,  and  he  blushes. 
Check  his  circulation,  and  he  thinks  wildly,  or  thinks  not  at  all.  Impair 
his  secretions,  and  moral  sense  is  dulled,  discoloured,  or  depraved  ;  his  as- 
pirations flag,  his  hope,  love,  faith  reel.  Impair  them  still  more,  and  he 
becomes  a  brute.  A  cup  of  drink  degrades  his  moral  nature  below  that  of 
a  swine.    Again,  a  violent  emotion  of  pity  or  horror  makes  him  vomit    A 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM.  "  ^g 

lancet  will  restore  him  from  delirium  to  clear  thought.  Excess  of  thought 
will  waste  his  sinews.  Excess  of  muscular  exercise  will  deaden  thought. 
An  emotion  will  double  the  strength  of  his  muscles.  And  at  last  the  prick 
of  a  needle  or  a  grain  of  mineral  will  in  an  instant  lay  to  rest  for  ever  his 
body  and  its  unity,  and  all  the  spontaneous  activities  of  intelligence,  feel- 
ing, and  action,  with  which  that  compound  organism  was  charged. 

These  are  the  obvious  and  ancient  observations  about  the  human  or- 
ganism. But  modern  philosophy  and  science  have  carried  these  hints  into 
complete  explanations.  By  a  vast  accumulation  of  proof,  positive  thought 
at  last  has  established  a  distinct  correspondence  between  every  process  of 
thought  or  of  feeling  and  some  corporeal  phenomenon. 

I  cry  with  Shylock : 

'Tis  very  true,  O  wise  and  upright  judge. 

But  if  the  establishment  of  the  correspondence  betv/een 
physical  phenomena  on  the  one  side,  and  moral  and  intellec 
tual  phenomena  on  the  other,  is  properly  to  be  called  an 
explanation  (let  alone  a  complete  explanation^  of  the  human  or- 
ganism, surely  Mr.  Harrison's  teachings  come  dangerously 
near  that  tender  of  physical  theories  in  explanation  of  moral 
phenomena  which  he  warns  us  leads  straight  to  corrup- 
tion. 

But  perhaps  I  have  misrepresented  Mr.  Harrison.  For  a 
few  lines  further  on  we  are  told,  with  due  italic  emphasis,  that 
"  no  man  can  explain  volition  by  purely  anatomical  study." 

I  should  have  thought  that  Mr.  Harrison  might  have  gone 
much  further  than  this.  No  man  ever  explained  any  physio- 
logical fact  by  purely  anatomical  study.  Digestion  cannot  be 
so  explained,  nor  respiration,  nor  reflex  action.  It  would 
have  been  as  relevant  to  affirm  that  volition  could  not  be  ex- 
plained by  measuring  an  arc  of  the  meridian. 

I  am  obliged  to  note  the  fact  that  Mr.  Harrison's  biologi- 


^5  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

cal  Studies  have  not  proceeded  so  far  as  to  enable  him  to  dis- 
criminate between  the  province  of  anatomy  and  that  of  physi- 
ology, because  it  furnishes  the  key  to  an  otherwise  mysterious 
utterance : — 

A  man  whose  whole  thoughts  are  absorbed  in  cutting  up  dead  mon- 
keys and  live  frogs  has  no  more  business  to  dogmatise  about  religion  than 
a  mere  chemist  to  improvise  a  zoology. 

Quis  negavit  ?  But  if,  as,  on  Mr.  Harrison's  own  showing, 
is  the  case,  the  progress  of  science  (not  anatomical,  but  phys- 
iological) has  "  established  a  distinct  correspondence  between 
every  process  of  thought  or  of  feeling  and  some  corporeal  phe- 
nomenon," and  if  it  is  true  that  "  impaired  secretions  "  deprave 
the  moral  sense,  and  make  "  hope,  love,  and  faith  reel,"  surely 
the  religious  feelings  are  brought  within  the  range  of  physio- 
logical inquiry.  If  impaired  secretions  deprave  the  moral 
sense,  it  becomes  an  interesting  and  important  problem  to 
ascertain  what  diseased  viscus  may  have  been  responsible  for 
the  Priest  in  Absolution  ;  and  what  condition  of  the  grey  pulp 
may  have  conferred  on  it  such  a  pathological  steadiness  of  faith 
as  to  create  the  hope  of  personal  immortality,  which  Mr.  Har- 
rison stigmatizes  as  so  selfishly  immoral. 

I  should  not  like  to  undertake  the  responsibility  of  advis- 
ing anybody  to  dogmatize  about  anything ;  but  surely  if,  as 
Mr.  Harrison  so  strongly  urges,  "  the  whole  range  of  man's 
powers,  from  the  finest  spiritual  sensibility  down  to  a  mere 
automatic  contraction,  falls  into  one  coherent  scheme,  being 
all  the  multiform  functions  of  a  living  organism  in  presence 
of  its  encircling  conditions  ; "  then  the  man  who  endeavors 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM.  "  57 

to  ascertain  the  exact  nature  of  these  functions,  and  to  de- 
termine the  influence  of  conditions  upon  them,  is  more  likely 
to  be  in  a  position  to  tell  us  something  worth  hearing  about 
them,  than  one  who  is  turned  from  such  study  by  cheap  pul- 
pit thunder  touching  the  presumption  of  "  biological  reason- 
ing about  spiritual  things." 

Mr.  Harrison,  as  we  have  seen,  is  not  quite  so  clear  as  is 
desirable  respecting  th'e  limits  of  the  provinces  of  anatomy 
and  physiology.  Perhaps  he  will  permit  me  to  inform  him 
that  physiology  is  the  science  which  treats  of  the  functions  of 
the  living  organism,  ascertains  their  coordinations  and  their 
correlations  in  the  general  chain  of  causes  and  effects, 
and  traces  out  their  dependence  upon  the  physical  states  of 
the  organs  by  which  these  functions  are  exercised.  The  ex- 
planation of  a  physiological  function  is  the  demonstratioai  of 
the  connection  of  that  function  with  the  molecular  state  of 
the  organ  which  exerts  the  function.  Thus  the  function  of 
motion  is  explained  when  the  movements  of  the  living  body 
are  found  to  have  certain  molecular  changes  for  their  invari- 
able antecedents  ;  the  function  of  sensation  is  explained  when 
the  molecular  changes,  which  are  the  invariable  antecedents  of 
sensations,  are  discovered. 

The  fact  that  it  is  impossible  to  comprehend  how  it  is 
that  a  physical  state  gives  rise  to  a  mental  state,  no  more 
lessens  the  value  of  the  explanation  in  the  latter  case,  than 
the  fact  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  comprehend  how  mo- 
tion is  communicated  from  one  body  to  another,  weakens  the 
force  of  the  explanation  of  the  motion  of  one  billiard  ball  by 
showing  that  another  has  hit  it. 


58  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

The  finest  spiritual  sensibility,  says  Mr.  Harrison  (and  I 
think  that  there  is  a  fair  presumption  that  he  is  right),  is  a 
function  of  a  living  organism — is  in  relation  with  molecular 
facts.  In  that  case,  the  physiologist  may  reply,  "It  is  my 
business  to  find  out  what  these  molecular  facts  are,  and 
whether  the  relation  between  them  and  the  said  spiritual  sen- 
sibility is  one  of  antecedence  in  the  molecular  fact,  and  se- 
quence in  the  spiritual  fact,  or  vice  versa.  If  the  latter  result 
comes  out  of  my  inquiries,  I  shall  have  made  a  contribution 
towards  a  moral  theory  of  physical  phenomena ;  if  the  former, 
I  shall  have  don6  somewhat  towards  building  up  a  physical 
theory  of  moral  phenomena.  But  in  any  case  I  am  not 
outstepping  the  limits  of  my  proper  province  :  my  business  is 
to  get  at  the  truth  respecting  such  questions  at  all  risks  ;  and 
if  you  tell  me  that  one  of  these  two  results  is  a  corrupting  doc- 
trine, I  can  only  say  that  I  perceive  the  intended  reproach 
conveyed  by  the  observation,  but  that  I  fail  to  recognise  its 
relevance.  If  the  doctrine  is  true,  its  social  septic  or  anti- 
septic properties  are  not  my  affair.  My  business  as  a  biolo- 
gist is  with  physiology,  not  with  morals." 

This  plea  of  justification  strikes  me  as  complete  ;  whence, 
then,  the  following  outbreak  of  angry  eloquence  ? — 

The  arrogant  attempt  to  dispose  of  the  deepest  moral  truths  of  human 
nature  on  a  bare  physical  or  physiological  basis  is  almost  enough  to  justify 
the  insurrection  of  some  impatient  theologians  against  science  itself. 

"  That  strain  again  :  it  has  a  dying  fall ; "  nowise  similar 
to  the  sweet  south  upon  a  bank  of  violets,  however,  but  like 
the  death-wail  of  innumerable  "  impatient  theologians "   as 


A  MODERN  " SYMPOSIUM."  ^g 

from  the  high  "drum  ecclesiastic"  they  view  the  waters  of 
science  flooding  the  Church  on  all  hands.  The  beadles  have 
long  been  washed  away  ;  escape  by  pulpit  stairs  is  even  be- 
coming doubtful,  without  kirtling  those  outward  investments 
which  distinguish  the  priest  from  the  man  so  high  that  no  one 
will  see  there  is  anything  but  the  man  left.  But  Mr.  Harrison 
is  not  an  impatient  theologian — indeed,  no  theologian  at  all, 
unless,  as  he  speaks  of  "  Soul  "  when  he  means  certain  bodily 
functions,  and  of  "  P'uture  life  "  when  he  means  personal  an- 
nihilation, he  may  make  his  master's  Grand  etre  supreme  the 
subject  of  a  theology  ;  and  one  stumbles  upon  this  well-worn 
fragment  of  too  familiar  declamation  amongst  his  vigorous 
periods  with  the  unpleasant  surprise  of  one  who  finds  a  fly  in 
a  precious  ointment. 

There  are  people  from  whom  one  does  not  expect  well- 
founded  statement  and  thoughtful,  however  keen,  argumenta- 
tion, embodied  in  precise  language.  From  Mr.  Harrison  one 
does.  But  I  think  he  will  be  at  a  loss  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion, if  I  pray  him  to  tell  me  of  any  representative  of  physical 
science  who,  either  arrogantly  or  otherwise,  has  ever  attempt- 
ed to  dispose  of  moral  truths  on  a  physical  or  physiological 
basis.  If  I  am  to  take  the  sense  of  the  words  literally,  I  shall 
not  dispute  the  arrogance  of  the  attempt  to  dispose  of  a 
moral  truth  on  a  bare,  or  even  on  a  covered,  physical  or  phy- 
siological basis  ;  for,  whether  the  truth  is  deep  or  shallow,  I 
cannot  conceive  how  the  feat  is  to  be  performed.  Columbus' 
difficulty  with  the  egg  is  as  nothing  to  it.  But  I  suppose 
what  is  meant  is,  that  some  arrogant  people  have  tried  to  up- 
set morality  by  the  help  of  physics  and  physiology.     I  am 


6o  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

sorry  if  such  people  exist,  because  I  shall  have  to  be  much 
ruder  to  them  than  Mr.  Harrison  is.  I  should  not  call  them 
arrogant,  any  more  than  I  should  apply  that  epithet  to  a  per- 
son who  attempted  to  upset  Euclid  by  the  help  of  the  Rigveda. 
Accuracy  might  be  satisfied,  if  not  propriety,  by  calling  such 
a  person  a  fool ;  but  it  appears  to  me  that  it  would  be  the 
height  of  injustice  to  term  him  arrogant. 

Whatever  else  they  may  be,  the  laws  of  morality,  under 
their  scientific  aspect,  are  generalisations  based  upon  the  ob- 
served phenomena  of  society ;  and,  whatever  may  be  the 
nature  of  moral  approbation  and  disapprobation,  these  feel- 
ings are,  as  a  matter  of  experience,  associated  with  certain 
acts. 

The  consequences  of  men's  actions  will  remain  the  same, 
however  far  our  analysis  of  the  causes  which  lead  to  them  may 
be  pushed  :  theft  and  murder  would  be  none  the  less  objec- 
tionable if  it  were  possible  to  prove  that  they  were  result  of 
the  activity  of  special  theft  and  murder  cells  in  that  "  grey 
pulp  "  of  which  Mr.  Harrison  speaks  so  scornfully.  Does  any 
sane  man  imagine  that  any  quantity  of  physiological  analysis 
will  lead  people  to  think  breaking  their  legs  or  putting  their 
hands  into  the  fiire  desirable  ?  And  when  men  really  believe 
that  breaches  of  the  moral  law  involve  their  penalties  as  surely 
as  do  breaches  of  the  physical  law,  is  it  to  be  supposed  that 
even  the  very  firmest  disposal  of  their  moral  truths  upon  "  a 
bare  physical  or  physiological  basis  "  will  tempt  them  to  incur 
those  penalties? 

I  would  gladly  learn  from  Mr.  Harrison  where,  in  the  course 
of  his  studies,  he  has  found  anything  inconsistent  with  what  I 


A  MODERN '' symposium:'  6i 

have  just  said  in  the  writings  of  physicists  or  biologists.  I  would 
entreat  him  to  tell  us  who  are  the  true  materialists, "  the  scientific 
specialists  "  who  "  neglect  all  philosophical  and  religious  syn- 
thesis," and  who  "  submit  religion  to  the  test  of  the  scalpel  or 
the  electric  battery ; "  where  the  materialism  which  is  "  marked 
b}'  the  ignoring  of  religion,  the  passing  by  on  the  other  side 
and  shutting  the  eyes  to  the  spiritual  history  of  mankind,"  is 
to  be  found. 

I  will  not  believe  that  these  phrases  are  meant  to  apply  to 
any  scientific  men  of  whom  I  have  cognizance,  or  to  any 
recognized  system  of  scientific  thought — they  would  be  too 
absurdly  inappropriate — and  I  cannot  believe  that  Mr,  Har- 
rison indulges  in  empty  rhetoric.  But  I  am  disposed  to  think 
that  they  would  not  have  been  used  at  all,  except  for  that 
deep-seated  sympathy  with  the  "  impatient  theologian  "  which 
characterizes  the  Positivist  school,  and  crops  out,  character- 
istically enough,  in  more  than  one  part  of  Mr.  Harrison's 
essay. 

Mr,  Harrison  tells  us  that  "  Positivism  is  prepared  to  meet 
the  theologians,"  I  agree  with  him,  though  not  exactly  in 
his  sense  of  the  words — indeed,  I  have  formerly  expressed 
the  opinion  that  the  meeting  took  place  long  ago,  and  that  the 
faithful  lovers,  impelled  by  the  instinct  of  a  true  affinity  of 
nature,  have  met  to  part  no  more.  Ecclesiastical  to  the  core 
from  the  beginning,  Positivism  is  now  exemplifying  the  law 
that  the  outward  garment  adjusts  itself,  sooner  or  later,  to  the 
inward  man.  From  its  founder  onwards,  stricken  with  meta- 
physical incompetence,  and  equally  incapable  of  appreciating 
the  true  spirit  of  scientific  method,  it  is  now  essaying  to  cover 


62  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

the  nakedness  of  its  philosophical  materialism  with  the  rags  of 
a  spiritualistic  phraseology  out  of  which  the  original  sense  has 
wholly  departed.  I  understand  and  I  respect  the  meaning  of 
the  word  "  soul,"  as  used  by  Pagan  and  Christian  philosophers 
for  what  they  believe  to  be  the  imperishable  seat  of  human 
personality,  bearing  throughout  eternity  its  burden  of  woe,  or 
its  capacity  for  adoration  and  love.  I  confess  that  my  dull 
moral  sense  does  not  enable  me  to  see  anything  base  or  sel- 
fish in  the  desire  for  a  future  life  among  the  spirits  of  the  just 
made  perfect ;  or  even  among  a  few  such  poor  fallible  souls 
as  one  has  known  here  below. 

And  if  I  am  not  satisfied  with  the  evidence  that  is  offered 
me  that  such  a  soul  and  such  a  future  life  exist,  I  am  content 
to  take  what  is  to  be  had  and  to  make  the  best  of  the  brief 
span  of  existence  that  is  within  my  reach,  without  reviling 
those  whose  faith  is  more  robust  and  whose  hopes  are  richer 
and  fuller.  But  in  the  interests  of  scientific  clearness,  I  object 
to  say  that  I  have  a  soul,  when  I  mean,  all  the  while,  that  my 
organism  has  certain  mental  functions  which,  like  the  rest, 
are  dependent  upon  its  molecular  composition,  and  come  to 
an  end  when  I  die ;  and  I  object  still  more  to  affirm  that  I 
look  to  a  future  life,  when  all  that  I  mean  is,  that  the  influence 
of  my  sayings  and  doings  will  be  more  or  less  felt  by  a  num- 
ber of  people  after  the  physical  components  of  that  organism 
are  scattered  to  the  four  winds. 

Throw  a  stone  into  the  sea,  and  there  is  a  sense  in  which 
it  is  true  that  the  wavelets  which  spread  around  it  have  an 
effect  through  all  space  and  all  time.  Shall  we  say  that  the 
stone  has  a  future  life  ? 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM:  63 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  have  broken  away,  not  without 
pain  and  grief,  from  beliefs  which,  true  or  false,  embody  great 
and  fruitful  conceptions,  to  fall  back  into  the  arms  of  a  half- 
breed  between  science  and  theology,  endowed,  like  most  half- 
breeds,  with  the  faults  of  both  parents  and  the  virtues  of  nei- 
ther. And  it  is  unwise  by  such  a  lapse  to  expose  oneself  to 
the  temptation  of  holding  with  the  hare  and  hunting  with  the 
hounds — of  using  the  weapons  of  one  prcjgenitor  to  damage 
the  other.  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  members  of  the 
Positivist  school  in  this  country  stand  in  some  danger  of 
falling  into  that  fatal  error ;  and  I  put  it  to  them  to  consider 
whether  it  is  either  consistent  or  becoming  for  those  who  hold 
that  "  the  finest  spiritual  sensibility  "  is  a  mere  bodily  function, 
to  join  in  the  view-halloo,  when  the  hunt  is  up  against  biolog- 
ical science — to  use  their  voices  in  swelling  the  senseless  cry 
that  "  civilization  is  in  danger  if  the  workings  of  the  human 
spirit  are  to  become  questions  of  physiology." 

LORD  BLACHFORD. 

Mr.  Harrison  is  of  opinion  that  the  difference  between 
Christians  and  hinself  on  this  question  of  the  soul  and  the 
future  life  "  turns  altogether  on  habits  of  thought."  What  ap- 
pears to  the  Positivist  flimsy  will,  he  says,  seems  to  the  Chris- 
tian sublime,  and  vice  versa,  "  simply  because  our  minds  have 
been  trained  in  different  logical  methods,"  and  this  apparently 
because  Positivism  "  pretends  to  no  other  basis  than  positive 
knowledge  and  scientific  logic."  But  if  this  is  so,  it  is  not,  I 
think,  quite  consistent  to  conclude,  as  he  does,  that  "  it  is  idle 


64  questiSns  of  belief. 

to  dispute  about  our  respective  logical  methods,  or  to  put  this 
or  that  habit  of  minds  in  a  combat  with  that."  As  to  the 
combatants  this  may  be  true.  But  it  surely  is  not  idle,  but 
very  much  to  the  purpose,  for  the  information  of  those  judges 
to  whom  the  very  act  of  publication  appeals,  to  discuss  habits 
and  methods  on  which,  it  is  declared,  the  difference  altogether 
turns. 

I  note  therefore  /;/  limine,  what,  as  I  go  on,  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  illustrate,  one  or  two  differences  between  the  meth- 
ods of  Mr.  Harrison  and  those  in  which  I  have  been  trained. 

I  have  been  taught  to  consider  that  certain  words  or  ideas 
represent  Avhat  are  called  by  logicians  substances,  by  Mr. 
Harrison,  I  think,  entities,  and  by  others,  as  the  case  may  be, 
persons,  beings,  objects,  or  articles.  Such  are  air,  earth,  men, 
horses,  chairs,  and  tables.  Their  peculiarity  is  that  they  have 
each  of  them  a  separate,  independent,  substantive  existence. 
They  are. 

There  are  other  words  or  ideas  which  do  not  represent  ex- 
isting things,  but  qualities,  relations,  consequences,  processes, 
or  occurrences,  like  victory,  virtue,  life,  order,  or  destruction, 
which  do  but  belong  to  substances,  or  result  from  them  with- 
out any  distinct  existence  of  their  own.  A  thing  signified  by 
a  word  of  the  former  class  cannot  possibly  be  identical  or  even 
homogeneous  with  a  thing  signified  by  a  word  of  the  second 
class.  A  fiddle  is  not  only  a  different  thing  from  a  tune,  but 
it  belongs  to  another  and  totally  distinct  order  of  ideas.  To 
this  distinction  the  English  mind  at  some  period  of  its  history 
must  have  been  imperfectly  alive.  If  a  Greek  confounded 
xrtVff  with  xriaixa^  an  act  with  a  thing,  it  was  the  fault  of  the 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM:'  65 

individual.  But  the  English  language,  instead  of  precluding 
or  such  a  confusion,  almost,  one  would  say,  labors  to  propagate 
it.  Such  words  as  "building,"  "announcement,"  "preparation," 
or  "  power,"  are  equally  available  to  signify  either  the  act  of 
construction  or  an  edifice — either  the  act  of  proclaiming  or  a 
placard — either  the  act  of  preparing,  or  a  surgical  specimen 
— either  the  ability  to  do  something,  or  the  being  in  which 
that  ability  resides.  Such  imperfections  of  language  infuse 
themselves  into  thought.  And  I  venture  to  think  that  the 
slight  superciliousness  with  which  Mr.  Harrison  treats  the 
doctrines  which  such  persons  as  myself  entertain  respecting 
the  soul  is  in  some  degree  due  to  the  fact  that  positive  "  habits 
of  thought "  and  "  logical  methods  "  do  not  recognize  so  com- 
pletely as  ours  the  distinction  which  I  have  described  as  that 
between  a  fiddle  and  a  tune. 

Again,  my  own  habit  of  mind  is  to  distinguish  more  point- 
edly than  Mr.  Harrison  does  between  a  unit  and  a  complex 
whole.  When  I  speak  of  an  act  of  individual  will,  I  seem  to 
myself  to  speak  of  an  indivisible  act  proceeding  from  a  single 
being.  The  unity  is  not  merely  in  my  mode  of  representation, 
but  in  the  thing  signified.  If  I  speak  of  an  act  of  the  national 
will — say  a  determination  to  declare  war — I  speak  of  the  con- 
currence of  a  number  of  individual  wills,  each  acting  for  itself, 
and  under  an  infinite  variety  of  influences,  but  so  related  to 
each  other  and  so  acting  in  concert  that  it  is  convenient  to 
represent  them  under  the  aggregate  term  "nation."  I  use  a 
term  which  signifies  unity  of  being,  but  I  really  mean  nothing 
more  than  cooperation,  of  correlated  action  and  feeling.  So, 
when  I  speak  of  the  happiness  of  humanity,  I  mean  nothing 

5 


66  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

whatever  but  a  number  of  particular  happinesses  of  individual 
persons.  Humanity  is  not  a  unit,  but  a  word  which  enables 
me  to  bring  a  number  of  units  under  view  at  once.  In  the 
case  of  material  objects,  I  apprehend,  unity  is  simply  relative 
and  artificial — a  grain  of  corn  is  a  unit  relatively  to  a  bushel  and 
an  aggregate  relatively  to  an  atom.  But  I,  believing  myself  to 
be  a  spiritual  being,  call  myself  actually  and  without  metaphor 
— one. 

Mr.  Harrison,  who  acknowledges  the  existence  of  no  being 
but  matter,  appears  either  to  deny  the  existence  of  any  real 
unity  whatever,  or  to  ascribe  that  real  unity  to  an  aggregate  of 
things  or  beings  who  resemble  each  other,  like  the  members  of 
the  human  race,  or  cooperate  towards  a  common  result,  like 
the  parts  of  a  picture,  a  melody,  or  the  human  frame,  and 
which  may  thus  be  conveniently  viewed  in  combination,  and 
represented  by  a  single  word  or  phrase. 

I  think  that  the  little  which  I  have  to  say  will  be  the 
clearer  for  these  preliminary  protests. 

The  questions  in  hand  relate  first  to  the  claim  of  the  soul  of 
man  to  be  treated  as  an  existing  thing  not  bound  by  the  laws 
of  matter  ;  secondly,  to  the  immortality  of  that  existing  thing. 

The  claim  of  the  soul  to  be  considered  as  an  existing  and 
immaterial  being  presents  itself  to  my  mind  as  follows  : 

My  positive  experience  informs  me  of  one  thing  percipient 
— myself ;  and  of  a  multitude  of  things  perceptible — ^percepti- 
ble, that  is,  not  by  way  of  consciousness,  as  I  am  to  myself, 
but  by  way  of  impression  on  other  things — capable  of  making 
themselves  felt  through  the  channels  and  organs  of  sensation. 
These  things  thus  perceptible  constitute  the  material  world. 


A  MODERN '' symposium:'  67 

I  take  no  account  of  percipients  other  than  myself,  for  I 
can  only  conjecture  about  them  what  I  know  about  myself.  I 
take  no  account  of  things  neither  percipient  nor  perceptible, 
for  it  is  impossible  to  do  so.  I  know  of  nothing  outside  me 
of  which  I  can  say  it  is  at  once  percipient  and  perceptible. 
But  I  inquire  whether  I  am  myself  so — whether  the  existing 
being  to  which  my  sense  of  identity  refers,  in  which  my  sensa- 
tions reside,  and  which  for  these  two  reasons  I  call  "  myself," 
is  capable  also  of  being  perceived  by  beings  outside  myself, 
as  the  material  world  is  perceived  by  me. 

I  first  observe  that  things  perceptible  comprise  not  only 
objects,  but  instruments  and  media  of  perception — an  immense 
variety  of  contrivances,  natural  or  artificial,  for  transmitting 
information  to  the  sensitive  being.  Such  are  telescopes,  mi- 
croscopes, ear-trumpets,  the  atmosphere,  and  various  other 
media  which,  if  not  at  present  the  objects  of  direct  sensation, 
may  conceivably  become  so — and  such,  above  all,  are  various 
parts  of  the  human  body — the  lenses  which  collect  the  vibra- 
tions which  are  the  conditions  of  light ;  the  tympanum  which 
collects  the  vibrations  which  are  the  conditions  of  sound ;  the 
muscles  which  adjust  these  and  other  instruments  of  sensa- 
tion to  the  precise  performance  of  their  work ;  the  nerves 
which  convey  to  and  fro  molecular  movements  of  the  most  in- 
comprehensible significance  and  efl[icacy.  Of  all  these  it  is,  I 
understand,  more  and  more  evident,  as  science  advances,  that 
they  are  perceptible,  but  do  not  perceive.  Ear,  hand,  eye,  and 
nerves  are  alike  machinery — mere  machinery  for  transmitting 
the  movement  of  atoms  to  certain  ner\'ous  centres — ascer- 
tained localities  which  (it  is  proper  to  observe  in  passing), 


68  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

though  small  relatively  to  ourselves  and  our  powers  of  investi- 
gation, may, — since  size  is  entirely  relative — be  absolutely 
large  enough  to  contain  little  worlds  in  themselves. 

Here  the  investigation  of  things  perceptible  is  stopped, 
abruptly  and  completely.  Our  inquiries  into  the  size,  composi- 
tion, and  movement  of  particles,  have  been  pushed,  for  the 
present  at  any  rate,  as  far  as  they  will  go.  But  at  this  point 
we  come  across  a  field  of  phenomena  to  which  the  attributes 
of  atoms,  size,  movement,  and  physical  composition  are  wholly 
inapplicable — the  phenomena  of  sensation  or  animal  life. 

Science  informs  me  that  the  movements  of  these  percepti- 
ble atoms  within  my  body  bear  a  correspondence,  strange, 
subtle,  and  precise,  to  the  sensations  of  which  I,  as  a  percipient, 
am  conscious  ;  a  correspondence  (it  is  again  proper  to  observe 
in  passing)  which  extends  not  only  to  perceptions,  as  in  sight 
or  hearing,  but  to  reflection  and  volition,  as  in  sleep  and 
drunkenness.  The  relation  is  not  one  of  similarity.  The  vi- 
brations of  a  white,  black,  or  grey  pulp  are  not  in  any  sensi- 
ble way  similar  to  the  perception  of  colour  or  sound,  or  the 
imagination  of  a  noble  act.  There  is  no  visible — may  I  not 
say  no  conceivable  ? — reason  why  one  should  depend  on  the 
other.  Motion  and  sensation  interact,  but  they  do  not  over- 
lap. There  is  no  homogeneity  between  them.  They  stand 
apart.  Physical  science  conducts  us  to  the  brink  of  the  chasm 
which  separates  them,  and  by  so  doing  only  shows  us  its 
depth. 

I  return  then  to  the  question,  What  am  I  ?  My  own  hab- 
its of  mind  and  logical  methods  certainly  require  me  to  believe 
that  I  am  something — something  percipient — but  am  Ipercep- 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM."  6^ 

lible  ?  I  find  no  reason  for  supposing  it.  I  believe  myself  to 
be  surrounded  by  things  percipient.  Are  they  perceptible  ? 
Not  to  my  knowledge.  Their  existence  is  to  me  a  matter  of 
inference  from  their  perceptible  appendages.  Them — their 
selves — I  certainly  cannot  perceive.  As  far  as  I  can  under- 
stand things  perceptible,  I  detect  in  them  no  quality — no  ca- 
pacity for  any  quality  like  that  of  percipiency,  which  with  its 
homogeneous  faculties,  intellect,  affections,  and  so  on,  is  the 
basis  of  my  own  nature.  Physical  science,  while  it  developes 
the  relation,  seems  absolutely  to  emphasise  and  illuminate  the 
ineradicable  difference  between  the  motions  of  a  material  and 
the  sensations  of  a  living  being.  Of  the  attributes  of  a  per- 
cipient we  have,  each  for  himself,  profound  and  immediate 
experience.  Of  the  attributes  of  the  perceptible  we  have,  I  sup- 
pose, distinct  scientific  conceptions.  Our  notions  of  the  one 
and  our  notions  of  the  other  appear  to  attach  to  a  different 
order  of  being. 

It  appears  therefore  to  me  that  there  is  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve, and  much  reason  for  not  believing,  that  the  percipient  is 
perceptible  under  our  present  conditions  of  existence,  or  indeed 
under  any  conditions  that  our  present  faculties  enable  us  to 
imagine. 

And  this  is  my  case,  which  of  course  covers  the  whole  ani- 
mal creation.  Perception  must  be  an  attribute  of  something, 
and  there  is  reason  for  believing  that  this  something  is  imper- 
ceptible. This  is  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  I  have,  or  more 
properly  that  I  am,  a  soul  or  spirit,  or  rather  it  is  the  point  on 
which  I  join  issue  with  those  who  say  that  I  am  not. 

I  am  not,  as  Mr.  Harrison  seems  to  suppose,  running  about 


70  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

in  search  of  a  "  cause."  I  am  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  a 
being,  and  that  being  myself.  I  am  sure  I  am  something.  I 
am  certainly  not  the  mere  tangible  structure  of  atoms  which  I 
affect,  and  by  which  I  am  affected  after  a  wonderful  fashion. 
In  reflecting  on  the  nature  of  my  own  operations  I  find  noth- 
ing to  suggest  that  my  own  being  is  subject  to  the  same  class 
of  physical  laws  as  the  objects  from  which  my  sensations  are 
derived,  and  I  conclude  that  I  am  not  subject  to  those  laws. 
The  most  substantial  objection  to  this  conclusion  is  conveyed, 
I  conceive,  in  a  sentence  of  Mr.  Harrison's  :  "To  talk  to  us 
of  mind,  feeling,  and  will  continuing  their  functions  in  the  ab- 
sence of  physical  organs  and  visible  organisms,  is  to  use  lan- 
guage which,  to  us  at  least,  is  pure  nonsense." 

It  is  probably  to  those  who  talk  thus  that  Mr.  Harrison 
refers  when  he  says  that  argument  is  useless.  And  in  point 
of  fact  I  have  no  answer  but  to  call  his  notions  anthropomor- 
phic, and  to  charge  him  with  want  of  a  certain  kind  of  imagina- 
tion. By  imagination  we  commonly  mean  the  creative  faculty 
which  enables  a  man  to  give  a  palpable  shape  to  what  he  be- 
lieves or  thinks  possible :  and  this,  I  do  not  doubt,  Mr.  Harri- 
son possesses  in  a  high  degree.  But  there  is  another  kind  of 
imagination  which  enables  a  man  to  embrace  the  idea  of  a  pos- 
sibility to  which  no  such  palpable  shape  can  be  given,  or  rather 
of  a  world  of  possibilities  beyond  the  range  of  his  experience 
or  the  grasp  of  his  faculties ;  as  Mr.  John  Mill  embraced  the 
idea  of  a  possible  world  in  which  the  connection  of  cause 
and  effect  should  not  exist.  The  want  of  this  necessarj' 
though  dangerous  faculty  makes  a  man  the  victim  of  vivid 
impressions,  and  disables  him  from  believing  what  his  im- 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUMS  yi 

pressions  do  not  enable  him  to  realise.  Questions  respecting 
metaphysical  possibility  turn  much  on  the  presence,  or  ab- 
sence, or  exaggeration  of  this  kind  of  imagination.  And 
when  one  man  has  said  "  I  can  conceive  it  possible,"  and  an- 
other has  said  ''  I  cannot,"  it  is  certainly  difficult  to  get  any 
farther. 

To  me  it  is  not  in  the  slightest  degree  difficult  to  conceive 
the  possible  existence  of  a  being  capable  of  love  and  knowl- 
edge without  the  physical  organs  through  which  human  beings 
derive  their  knowledge,  nor  in  supposing  myself  to  be  such  a 
being.  Indeed  I  seem  actually  to  exercise  such  a  capacity 
(however  I  got  it)  when  I  shut  my  eyes  and  try  to  think  out  a 
moral  or  mathematical  puzzle.  If  it  is  true  that  a  particular 
corner  of  my  brain  is  concerned  in  the  matter,  I  accept  the 
fact  not  as  a  self-evident  truth  (which  would  seem  to  be  Mr. 
Harrison's  position),  but  as  a  curious  discovery  of  the  anato- 
mists. But  having  said  this  I  have  said  everything,  and  as 
Mr.  Harrison  must  suppose  that  I  deceive  myself,  so  I  sup- 
pose that  in  his  case  the  imagination  which  founds  itself  on 
experience  is  so  active  and  vivid  as  to  cloud  or  dwarf  the  im- 
agination which  proceeds  beyond  or  beside  experience. 

Mr.  Harrison's  own  theory  I  do  not  quite  understand. 
He  derides  the  idea,  thou^  he  does' not  absolutely  deny  the 
possibility,  of  an  immaterial  entity  which  feels.  And  he  ap- 
pears to  be  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  supposing  that  atoms 
of  matter  which  assume  the  form  of  a  grey  pulp  can  feel.  He 
holds  accordingly,  as  I  understand,  that  feeling,  and  all  that 
follows  from  it,  are  the  results  of  an  "  organism." 

If  he  had  used  the  word  "  organization,"  I  should  have 


72  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

concluded  unhesitatingly  that  he  was  a  victim  of  the  Angli- 
can confusion  which  I  have  above  noticed,  and  that,  in  his 
own  mind,  he  escaped  the  alternative  difficulties  of  the  case 
by  the  common  expedient  of  shifting,  as  occasion  required, 
from  one  sense  of  that  word  to  the  other.  If  pressed  by  the 
difficulty  of  imagining  sensation  not  resident  in  any  specific 
sensitive  thing,  the  word  organization  would  supply  to  his 
mind  the  idea  of  a  thing,  a  sensitive  aggregate  of  organized 
atoms.  If,  on  the  contrary,  pressed  by  the  difficulty  of  sup- 
posing that  these  atoms,  one  or  all,  thought,  the  word  would 
shift  its  meaning  and  present  the  aspect  not  of  an  aggregate 
bulk,  but  of  orderly  arrangement — not  of  a  thing,  or  col- 
lection of  things,  but  of  a  state  of  things. 

But  the  word  "  organism  "  is  generally  taken  to  indicate 
a  thing  organized.  And  the  choice  of  that  word  would  seem 
to  indicate  that  he  ascribed  the  spiritual  acts  (so  to  call  them) 
which  constitute  life,  to  the  aggregate  bulk  of  the  atoms  or- 
ganised or  the  appropriate  part  of  them.  But  this  he  else- 
where seems  to  disclaim.  "The  philosophy  which  treats  man 
as  man  simply  affirms  that  man  lov^es,  thinks,  acts,  not  that 
ganglia,  or  the  sinews,  or  any  organ  of  man  loves,  and  thinks, 
and  acts."  Yes,  but  we  recur  to  the  question,  what  is  man  ? 
If  the  ganglia  do  not  think,  what  is  it  that  does  ?  Mr.  Harri- 
son, as  I  understand,  answers  that  it  is  a  consensus  of  facul- 
ties, an  harmonious  S5-stem  of  parts,  and  he  denounces  an  at- 
tempt to  introduce  into  this  collocation  of  parts  or  faculties 
an  underlying  entity  or  being  which  shall  possess  those  facul- 
ties or  employ  those  parts.  It  is  then  not  after  all  to  a  being 
or  aggregate  of  beings,  but  to  a  relation  or  condition  of  be- 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  73 

ings,  that  will  and  thought  and  love  belong.  If  this  is  Mr. 
Harrison's  meaning,  I  certainly  agree  with  him  that  it  is  in- 
deed impossible  to  compose  a  difference  between  two  dispu- 
tants, of  whom  one  holds,  and  the  other  denies,  that  a  condi- 
tion can  think.  If  my  opponent  does  not  admit  this  to  be  an 
absurdity,  I  do  not  pretend  to  drive  him  any  further. 

With  regard  to  immortality,  I  have  nothing  material  to 
add  to  what  has  been  said  by  those  who  have  preceded  me. 
I  agree  with  Professor  Huxley  that  the  natural  world  supplies 
nothing  which  can  be  called  evidence  of  a  future  life.  Be- 
lieving in  God,  I  see  in  the  constitution  of  the  world  which 
He  has  made,  and  in  the  yearnings  and  aspirations  of  that 
spiritual  nature  which  He  has  given  to  man,  much  that  com- 
mends to  my  belief  the  revelation  of  a  future  life  which  I  be- 
lieve Him  to  have  made.  But  it  is  in  virtue  of  His  clear  prom- 
ise, not  in  virtue  of  these  doubtful  intimations,  that  I  rely  on  the 
prospect  of  a  future  life.  Believing  that  He  is  the  author  of 
that  moral  insight  which  in  its  ruder  forms  controls  the  mul- 
titude and  in  its  higher  inspires  the  saint,  I  revere  those  great 
men  who  were  able  to  forecast  this  great  announcement,  but  I 
cannot  and  do  not  care  to  reduce  that  forecast  to  any  logical 
process,  or  base  it  on  any  conclusive  reasoning.  Rather  I  ad- 
mire their  power  of  divination  the  more  on  account  of  the 
narrowness  of  their  logical  data.  For  myself  I  believe  be- 
cause I  am  told. 

But  whether  the  doctrine  of  immortality  be  true  or  false,  I 
protest,  with  Mr.  Hutton,  against  the  attempt  to  substitute 
for  what  at  any  rate  is  a  substantial  idea,  something  which 
can  hardly  be  called  even  a  shadow  or  echo  of  it. 


74  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

The  Christian  conception  of  the  world  is  this.  It  is  a 
world  of  moral  as  of  physical  waste.  Much  seed  is  sown 
which  will  not  ripen,  but  some  is  sown  that  will.  This  planet 
is  a  seat,  among  other  things,  of  present  goodness  and  happi- 
ness. And  this  our  goodness  and  happiness,  like  our  crime 
and  misery,  propagate  or  fail  to  propagate  themselves  during 
our  lives  and  after  our  deaths.  But,  apart  from  these  earthly 
consequences,  which  are  much  to  us  and  all  to  the  Positivist, 
the  little  fragment  of  the  universe  on  which  we  appear  and 
disappear  is,  we  believe,  a  nursery  for  something  greater. 
The  capacities  for  love  and  knowledge  which  in  some  of  us 
attain  a  certain  development  here,  we  must  all  feel  to  be 
capable,  with  greater  opportunities,  of  an  infinitely  greater 
development ;  and  Christians  believe  that  such  a  development 
is  in  fact  reserved  for  those  who,  in  this  short  time  of  appren- 
ticeship, take  the  proper  steps  for  approaching  it. 

This  conception  of  a  glorious  and  increasing  company 
into  which  the  best  of  men  are  continually  to  be  gathered  to 
be  associated  with  each  other  (to  say  no  more)  in  all  that 
can  make  existence  happy  and  noble,  may  be  a  dream,  and 
Mr.  Harrison  may  be  right  in  calling  it  so.  In  deriding  it  he 
cannot  be  right.  "  The  eternity  of  the  tabor  "  he  calls  it  1 
Has  he  never  felt,  or  at  any  rate  is  he  not  able  to  conceive, 
a  thrill  of  pleasure  at  a  sympathetic  interchange  of  look,  or 
word,  or  touch  with  a  fellow-creature  kind  and  noble  and 
brilliant,  and  engaged  in  the  exhibition  of  those  qualities  of 
heart  and  intellect  which  make  him  what  he  is?  Multiply  and 
sustain  this — suppose  yourself  surrounded  by  beings  with 
whom  this  interchange  of  sympathy  is  warm  and  perpetual. 


A  MODERN  " symposium:'  ye 

Intensify  it.  Increase  indefinitely  the  excellence  of  one  of 
those  beings,  the  wonderful  and  attractive  character  of  his 
operations,  our  own  capacities  of  affection  and  intellect,  the 
vividness  of  our  conception,  the  breadth  and  firmness  of  our 
mental  grasp,  the  sharp  vigor  of  our  admiration ;  and  to 
exclude  satiety,  imagine  if  you  like  that  the  operations  which 
we  contemplate  and  our  relations  to  our  companions  are  in- 
finitely varied — a  supposition  for  which  the  size  of  the  known 
and  unknown  universe  affords  indefinite  scope — or  otherwise 
suppose  that  sameness  ceases  to  tire,  as  the  old  Greek  phi- 
losopher thought  it  might  do  if  we  were  better  than  we  are 
(jxsra^okij  TzavTcov  yXuxoTarov  did  xovy)p{av  T£vd),  or  as  it  would 
do,  I  suppose,  if  we  had  no  memory  of  the  immediate  past. 
Imagine  all  this  as  the  very  least  that  may  be  hoped,  if  our 
powers  of  conception  are  as  slight  in  respect  to  the  nature  of 
what  is  to  be  as  our  bodies  are  in  relation  to  the  physical 
universe.  And  remember  that  if  practical  duties  are  neces- 
sary for  the  perfection  of  life,  the  universe  is  not  so  small 
but  that  in  some  corner  of  it  its  Creator  might  always  find 
something  to  do  for  the  army  of  intelligences  whom  He  has 
thus  formed  and  exalted. 

All  this,  I  repeat,  may  be  a  dream,  but  to  characterise  it 
as  "  the  eternity  of  the  tabor  "  shows  surely  a  feebleness  of 
conception  or  carelessness  of  representation  more  worthy  of  a 
ready  writer  than  of  a  serious  thinker.  And  to  place  before 
us  as  a  rival  conception  the  fact  that  some  of  our  good  deeds 
will  have  indefinite  consequences — to  call  this  scanty  and 
fading  chain  of  effects,  which  we  shall  be  as  unable  to  per- 
ceive or  control  as  we  have  been  unable  to  anticipate — to 


y6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

call  this  a  "  posthumous  activity,"  "  an  eternity  of  spiritual 
influence,"  and  a  "  life  beyond  the  grave,"  and  finally,  under 
the  appellation  of  "  incorporation  into  the  glorious  future  of 
our  race,"  to  claim  for  it  a  dignity  and  value  parallel  to  that 
which  would  attach  to  the  Christian's  expectation  (if  solid)  of  a 
sensible  life  of  exalted  happiness  for  himself  and  all  good 
men,  is  surely  nothing  more  or  less  than  extravagance  founded 
on  misnomer. 

With  regard  to  the  promised  incorporation,  I  should  really 
like  to  know  what  is  the  exact  process,  or,  event,  or  condition 
which  Mr.  Harrison  considers  himself  to  understand  by  the 
incorporation  of  a  consentus  of  faculties  with  a  glorious  future ; 
and  whether  he  arrived  at  its  apprehension  by  way  of  "posi- 
tive knowledge,"  or  by  way  of  "  scientific  logic." 

Mr.  Harrison's  future  life  is  disposed  of  by  Professor 
Huxley  in  a  few  words  :  "  Throw  a  stone  into  the  sea,  and 
there  is  a  sense  in  which  it  is  true  that  the  wavelets  which 
spread  around  it  have  an  effect  through  all  space  and  time. 
Shall  we  say  that  the  stone  has  a  future  life  ? " 

To  this  I  only  add  the  question  whether  I  am  not  justified 
in  saying  that  Mr.  Harrison  does  not  adequately  distinguish 
between  the  nature  of  a  fiddle  and  the  nature  of  a  tune,  and 
would  contend  (if  consistent)  that  a  violin  which  had  been 
burnt  to  ashes  would,  notwithstanding,  continue  to  exist,  at 
least  as  long  as  a  tune  which  had  been  played  upon  it  sur- 
vived in  the  memor}'  of  any  one  who  had  heard  it — the  con- 
sensus of  its  capacities  being,  it  would  seem,  incorporated  into 
the  glorious  future  of  music  ? 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  77 

HON.  RODEN  NOEL. 

Death  is  a  phenomenon ;  but  are  we  phenomena  ? 

The  question  of  immortality  seems,  philosophically  speak- 
ing, very  much  to  resolve  itself  into  that  of  personality.  Are 
we  persons,  spirits,  or  are  we  things  ?  Perhaps  we  are  a  loose 
collection  of  successive  qualities  ?  That  seems  to  be  the 
latest  conclusion  of  Positive,  and  Agnostic  biological  philoso- 
phy. The  happy  thought  which,  as  Dr.  Stirling  suggests,  was 
probably  thrown  out  in  a  spirit  of  persiflage  by  Hume  has 
been  adopted  in  all  seriousness  by  his  followers.  Mr.  Harri- 
son is  very  bitter  with  those  who  want  to  explain  mental  and 
moral  phenomena  by  physiology.  But,  as  Professor  Huxley 
remarks,  he  seems  in  many  parts  of  his  essay  to  do  the  same 
thing  himself.  What  could  Buchner,  or  Carl  Vogt  say  stronger 
than  this  ?  **  At  last,  the  prick  of  a  needle,  or  a  grain  of  min- 
eral, will  in  an  instant  lay  to  rest  for  ever  man's  body  and 
its  unity,  and  all  the  spontaneous  activities  of  intelligence, 
feeling,  and  action,  with  which  that  compound  organism 
was  charged."  Again,  he  says  the  spiritual  faculties  are 
"  directly  dependent  on  physical  organs  "  —  "  stand  forth 
as  functions  of  living  organs  in  given  conditions  of  the 
organism."  Again:  "At  last  the  man  Newton  dies,  that 
is,  the  body  is  dispersed  into  gas  and  dust."  Mr.  Harrison 
then,  though  a  Positivist,  bound  to  know  only  successive 
phenomena,  seems  to  know  the  body  as  a  material  entity 
possessed  of  such  functions  as  conscience,  reason,  imagina- 
tion, perception — to  know  that  Newton's  body  thought  out 
the   Principia,   and   Shakespeare's   conceived   Hamlet.     In 


78  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

deed,  Agnosticism  generally,  though  with  a  show  of  humility, 
seems  rather  arbitrary  in  its  selection  of  what  we  shall  know, 
and  what  we  shall  not :  we  must  know  something ;  so  we  shall 
know  that  we  have  ideas  and  feelings,  but  not  the  personal 
identity  that  alone  makes  them  intelligible,  or  we  shall  use  the 
word,  and  yet  speak  as  if  the  idea  were  a  figment ;  we  shall 
know  qualities,  but  not  substance  ;  "  functions  "  and  "  forces," 
but  not  the  some  one  or  something,  of  which  they  must  be 
functions  and  forces  to  be  conceivable  at  all.  Yet  naiuram 
expellas furca  &c.  Common  sense  insists  on  retaining  the 
fundamental  law  of  human  thought,  not  being  able  to  get  rid 
of  them ;  and  hence  the  haphazard,  instead  of  systematic  and 
orderly  fashion  in  which  the  new  philosophy  deals  with  uni- 
versal convictions,  denying  even  that  they  exist  out  of  theology 
and  metaphysique. 

Thus  (in  apparent  contradiction  to  the  statements  quoted) 
on  p.  1 7,  we  are  told  that  it  is  "  man  who  loves,  thinks, 
acts  ;  not  the  ganglia,  or  sinuses,  or  any  organ  "  that  does  so. 
But  perhaps  the  essayist  means  that  all  the  body  together  does 
so.  He  says  a  man  is  "  the  consensus,  or  combined  activity 
of  his  faculties."  What  is  meant  by  this  phraseology  ?  It  is 
just  this  "  ///J,"  this  "  consensus,''  or  "  combined  acting  "  that  is 
inconceivable  without  the  focus  of  unity,  in  which  many  con- 
temporaneous phenomena,  and  many  past  and  present  meet  to 
be  compared,  remembered,  identified  as  belonging  to  the  same 
self  ;  so  only  can  they  be  known  phenomena  at  all.  Well,  do 
we  find  in  examining  the  physical  structure  of  man's  body  as 
solid,  heavy,  extended,  divisible,  or  its  living  organs  and  their 
physical  functions,  or  the  rearrangement  of  molecules  of  car- 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  79 

bon,  nitrogen,  hydrogen,  &c.,  into  living  tissue,  or  its  oxidation, 
anything  corresponding  to  the  consciousness  of  personal  moral 
agency,  and  personal  identity  ?  We  put  the  two  classes  of 
conception  side  by  side,  and  they  seem  to  refuse  to  be  identi- 
fied— man  as  one  and  the  same  conscious  moral  agent — and 
his  body,  or  the  bumps  on  his  skull ;  or  is  man  indeed  a  func- 
tion of  his  own  body  ?  Are  we  right  in  talking  of  our  bodies 
as  material  things,  and  of  ourselves  as  if  v^'e  were  not  things, 
but  persons  with  mights,  rights,  and  duties  ?  We  ought  per- 
haps to  talk — theologies  and  philosophies  being  now  exploded 
— not  of  our  having  bodies,  but  of  bodies  having  us,  and  of 
bodies  having  rights  or  duties.  Perhaps  Dundreary  was  mis- 
taken, and  the  tail  may  wag  the  dog  after  all. 

Mr.  Harrison  says  :  "  Orthodoxy  has  so  long  been  ac- 
customedjto  take  itself  for  granted,  that  we  are  apt  to  forget 
how  very  short  a  period  of  human  history  this  sublimated 
essence  "  (the  immaterial  soul)  "  has  been  current.  There  is 
not  a  trace  of  it  in  the  Bible  in  its  present  sense."  This  re- 
minds one  rather  of  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold's  contention,  that 
the  Jews  did  not  believe  in  God.  But  really  it  does  not  much 
signify  what  particular  intellectual  theories  have  been  enter- 
tained by  different  men  at  different  times  about  the  nature  of 
God  or  of  the  soul :  the  question  is  whether  you  do  not  find 
on  the  whole  among  them  all  a  consciousness  or  conviction, 
that  there  is  a  Higher  Being  above  them,  -together  with  a 
power  of  distinguishing  themselves  from  their  own  bodies,  and 
the  world  around  them — in  consequence  of  this,  too,  a  belief 
in  personal  immortality.  Many  in  all  ages  believe  that  the 
dead  have  spoken  to  us  from  beyond  the  grave.    But  into 


8o  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

that  I  will  not  enter.  Are  we  our  bodies  ?  that  seems  to  be  the 
point.  Now  I  do  not  think  Positivism  has  any  right  to  assume 
that  we  are,  even  on  its  own  principles  and  professions. 

Mr.  Harrison  has  a  very  forcible  passage,  in  which  he 
enlarges  upon  this  theme :  that  '*  the  laws  of  the  separate 
functions  of  body,  mind,  or  feeling,  have  visible  relations 
to  each  other :  are  inextricably  woven  in  with  each  other, 
act  and  react."  "  From  the  summit  of  spiritual  life  to  the  base 
of  corporeal  life,  whether  we  pass  up  or  down  the  gamut  of 
human  forces,  there  runs  one  organic  correlation  and  sym- 
pathy of  parts.  Touch  the  smallest  fibre  in  the  corporeal 
man,  and  in  some  infinitesimal  way  we  may  watch  the  effect 
in  the  moral  man.  When  we  rouse  chords  of  the  most  glori- 
ous ecstasy  of  the  soul,  we  may  see  the  vibrations  of  them 
visibly  thrilling  upon  the  skin."  Here  we  are  in  the  region 
of  positive  facts  as  specially  made  manifest  by  recent  investi- 
gation. And  the  orthodox  schools  need  to  recognise  the 
significance  of  such  facts.  The  close  interdependence  of 
body  and  soul  is  a  startling  verity  that  must  be  looked  in  the 
face  ;  and  the  discovery  has,  no  doubt,  gone  far  to  shake  the 
faith  of  many  in  human  immortality,  as  well  as  in  other  mo- 
mentous kindred  truths.  It  has  been  so  with  myself.  But  I 
think  the  old  dictum  of  Bacon  about  the  effect  of  a  little  and 
more  knowledge  will  be  found  applicable  after  all.  Let  us 
look  these  facts  very  steadily  in  the  face.  When  we  have 
thought  for  a  long  time,  there  is  a  feeling  of  pain  in  the  head. 
That  is  a  feeling,  observe,  in  our  own  conscious  selves. 
Further,  by  observation  and  experiment,  it  has  been  made 
certain  that  some  molecular  change  in  the  nervous  substance 


A  MODERN"  "  S  YMPOSIUM."  8 1 

of  the  brain  (to  the  renewal  of  which  oxygenated  blood  is 
necessary),  is  going  on,  while  the  process  of  thinking  takes 
place — though  we  are  not  conscious  of  it  in  our  own  case,  ex- 
cept as  a  matter  of  inference.  The  thought  itself  seems 
when  we  reflect  on  it,  partly  due  to  the  action  of  an  external 
world  or  kosmos  upon  us ;  partly  to  our  own  "  forms  of 
thought,"  or  fixed  ways  of  perceiving  and  thinking,  which 
have  been  ours  so  long  as  we  can  remember,  and  which  do 
not  belong  to  us  more  than  to  other  individual  members 
of  the  human  family  ;  again  partly  to  our  own  past  experience. 
But  what  is  this  material  process  accompanying  thought, 
which  conceivably  we  might  perceive  if  we  could  see  the  in- 
side of  our  own  bodies  ?  Why  it  too  can  only  seem  what  it 
seems  by  virtue  of  our  own  personal  past  experience,  and  our 
own  human  as  well  as  individual  modes  of  conceiving.  Is 
not  that  "  positive  "  too  ?  Will  not  men  of  science  agree  with 
me  that  such  is  the  fact  ?  In  short,  our  bodies,  on  any  view 
of  them  science  herself  has  taught  us  2x0.  percepts  and  concepts  of 
ours — I  don't  say  of  the  "soul,"  or  the  mind,  or  any  bete 
noire  of  the  sort,  but  of  ourselves,  who  surely  cannot  be  alto- 
gether betes  noires.  They  are  as  much  percepts  and  concepts 
of  ours  as  is  the  material  world  outside  them.  Are  they  col- 
ored ?  Color,  we  are  told,  is  a  sensation.  Are  they  hard  or 
soft  ?  These  are  our  sensations,  and  relative  to  us.  The 
elements  of  our  food  enter  into  relations  we  name  living  ; 
their  molecules  enter  into  that  condition  of  unstable  equilib- 
rium ;  there  is  motion  of  parts  fulfilling  definite  intelligible 
and  constant  uses,  in  some  cases  subject  to  our  own  intelli- 
gent direction.     But  all  this  is  what  appears  to  our  intelli- 

6 


83  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

gence,  and  it  appears  different,  according  to  the  stages  of  in- 
telligence at  which  we  arrive  ;  a  good  deal  of  it  is  hypothesis 
of  our  own  minds.  Readers  of  Berkeley  and  Kant  need  not 
be  told  this  ;  it  is  now  universally  acknowledged  by  the  com- 
petent. The  atomic  theory  is  a  working  hypothesis  of  our 
minds  only.  Space  and  time  are  relative  to  our  intelligence, 
to  the  succession  of  our  thoughts,  to  our  own  faculties  of 
motion,  motion  being  also  a  conception  of  ours.  Our 
bodies,  in  fact,  as  Positivists  often  tell  us,  and  as  we  now 
venture  to  remind  them,  ^xe  phenomena,  that  is,  orderly  appear- 
ances  to  us.  They  further  tell  us  generally  that  there  is  noth- 
ing which  thus  appears,  or  that  we  cannot  know  that  there  is 
anything  beyond  the  appearance.  What  then,  accord- 
ing to  Positivism  itself,  is  the  most  we  are  entitled  to  affirm 
with  regard  to  the  dead  ?  Simply  that  there  are  no  appear- 
ances to  us  of  a  living  personality  in  connection  with  those  phe- 
nomena which  we  call  a  dead  body,  any  more  than  there 
are  in  connection  with  the  used-up  materials  of  burnt 
tissues  that  pass  by  osmosis  into  the  capillaries,  and 
away  by  excretory  ducts.  But  are  we  entitled  to  affirm  that 
iht  person  is  extinct — is  dissolved — the  one  conscious  self  in 
whom  these  bodily  phenomena  centred  (except  so  far  as  they 
centred  in  us),  who  was  the  focus  of  them,  gave  them  form, 
made  them  what  they  were ;  whose  thoughts  wandered  up  and 
down  through  eternity ;  of  whom,  therefore,  the  bodily,  as 
well  as  mental  and  spiritual  functions  were  functions,  so  far 
as  this  body  entered  into  the  conscious  self  at  all  ?  We  can, 
on  the  contrary,  only  affirm  that  probably  the  person  no  longer 
perceives,  and  is  conscious,  in  connection  with  this  form  we 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUMr  83 

look  upon,  wherein  so-called  chemical  affinities  now  pre- 
vail altogether  over  so-called  vital  power.  But  even  in  life 
the  body  is  always  changing  and  decomposing — foreign  sub- 
stances are  always  becoming  a  new  body,  and  the  old  body 
becoming  a  foreign  substance.  Yet  the  Person  remains  one 
and  the  same.  True,  Positivism  tries  to  eliminate  per- 
sons, and  reduce  all  to  appearances ;  but  this  is  too  glaring 
a  violation  of  common  sense,  and  I  do  not  think  from  his 
language  Mr.  Harrison  quite  means  to  do  this.  Well  by 
spirit,  even  by  "soul,"  most  people,  let  me  assure  him, 
only  mean  our  own  conscious  personal  selves.  For  myself,  in- 
deed, I  believe  that  there  cannot  be  appearances  without 
something  to  appear.  But  seeing  that  the  material  world  is  in 
harmony  with  our  intelligence,  and  presents  all  the  appear- 
ance of  intelligent  cooperation  of  parts  with  a  view  to 
ends,  I  believe,  with  a  great  English  thinker,  whose  loss 
we  have  to  deplore  (James  Hinton),  that  all  is  the  mani- 
festation of  life — of  living  spirits  or  persons,  not  of  dead  ip- 
ert  matter,  though  from  our  own  spiritual  deadness  or  inert- 
ness it  appears  to  us  material.  Upon  our  own  moral  and 
spiritual  life  in  fact  depends  the  measure  of  our  knowl- 
edge and  perception.  I  can  indeed  admit  with  Mr.  Har- 
rison t^at  probably  there  must  always  be  to  us  the  phenom- 
enon, the  body,  the  external ;  but  it  may  be  widely  different 
from  what  it  seems  now.  We  may  be  made  one  with  the  great 
Elohim,  or  angels  of  Nature  who  create  us,  or  we  may  still  grovel 
in  dead  material  bodily  life.  We  now  appear  to  ourselves  and 
to  others  as  bodil}'-,  as  material.  Body,  and  soul  or  mind, 
are  two  opposite  phenomenal  poles  of  one  Reality,  which  is 


84  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF: 

self  or  spirit;  but  though  these  phenomena  may  var}',  the 
creative  informing  spirit,  which  underlies  all,  of  which  we 
partake,  which  is  absolute,  divine,  this  can  never  be  de- 
stroyed. "  In  God  we  live,  move,  and  have  our  being."  It 
is  held  indeed  by  the  new  philosophy  that  the  temporal,  the 
physical,  and  the  composite  (elements  of  matter  and  "  feel- 
ing ")  are  the  basis  of  our  higher  consciousness  :  on  the  con- 
trary, I  hold  that  this  is  absurd,  and  that  the  one  eternal  con- 
sciousness or  spirit  must  be  the  basis  of  the  physical,  com- 
posite, and  temporal ;  is  needed  to  give  unity  and  harmony 
to  the  body.  One  is  a  little  ashamed  of  agreeing  with  an 
old-fashioned  thinker,  whom  an  old-fashioned  poet  pro- 
nounced the  "  first  of  those  who  know,"  that  the  spirit  is  or- 
ganizing vital  principle  of  the  body,  not  vice  versa.  The 
great  difficulty,  no  doubt,  is  that  apparent  irruption  of  the 
external  into  the  personal,  when,  as  the  essayist  says,  "  im- 
pair a  man's  secretions,  and  moral  sense  is  dulled,  discol- 
ored, depraved."  But  it  is  our  spiritual  deadness  that  has 
put  us  into  this  physical  condition ;  and  probably  it  is  we 
who  are  responsible  in  a  fuller  sense  than  we  can  realize  now 
for  this  effect  upon  us,  which  must  be  in  the  end  too  for  pur- 
poses of  discipline  ;  it  belongs  to  our  spiritual  history  and 
purpose.  Moreover,  this  external  world  is  not  so  foreign  to 
us  as  we  imagine  ;  it  is  spiritual,  and  between  all  spirit  there 
is  solidarity. 

Mr.  Hinton  observes  (and  here  I  agree  with  him  rather 
than  with  Mr.  Harrison),  that  the  defect  and  falseness  of  our 
knowing  must  be  in  the  knowing  by  only  part  of  ourselves. 
Whereas   sense  had  to  be  supplemented  by  intellect,  and 


A  MODERN-  "  SYMPOS/CrMr  85 

proved  misleading  without  it,  so  intellect,  even  in  the  region 
of  knowledge,  has  to  be  supplemented  by  moral  sense,  which 
is  the  highest  faculty  in  us.  We  are  at  present  misled  by  a 
false  view  of  the  world,  based  on  sense  and  intellect  only. 
Death  is  but  a  hideous  illusion  of  our  deadness — 

Death  is  the  veil  which  those  who  live  call  life  . 
We  sleep,  and  it  is  lifted. 

The  true  definition  of  the  actual  is  that  which  is  true  for, 
which  satisfies  the  whole  Being  of  humanity.  We  must  ask 
of  a  doctrine :  does  it  answer  in  the  moral  region  ?  if  so,  it  is 
as  true  as  we  can  have  it  with  our  present  knowledge  ;  but, 
if  the  moral  experiment  fails,  it  is  not  true.  Conscience  has 
the  highest  authority  about  knowledge,  as  it  has  about  conduct. 
Now  apply  this  to  the  negations  of  Positivism,  and  the  belief 
Comte  would  substitute  for  faith  in  God,  and  personal  im- 
mortality. Kant  sufficiently  proved  that  these  are  postulates 
required  by  Practical  Reason,  and  on  this  ground  he  believed 
them.  I  am  not  blind  to  the  beauty  and  nobleness  of  Comte's 
moral  ideal  (not  without  debt  to  Christ's)  as  expounded  by 
himself,  and  here  by  Mr.  Harrison.  Still  I  say :  the  moral 
experiment  fails.  Some  of  us  may  seek  to  benefit  the  world, 
and  then  desire  rest.  But  what  of  the  maimed  and  broken 
and  aimless  lives  around  us  ?  What  of  those  we  have  lost, 
who  were  dearer  to  us  than  our  own  selves,  full  of  fairest 
hope  and  promise,  unaware  annihilated  in  earliest  dawn, 
whose  dewy  bud  yet  slept  unfolded  ?  If  they  were  things, 
doubtless  we  might  count  them  as  so  much  manure,  in  which 
to  grow  those  still  more  beautiful,  though  still  brief-flowering 
human  aloes,  which  Positivism,  though  knowing  nothing  but 


86  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

present  phenomena,  and  denying  God,  is  able  confidently  to 
promise  us  in  some  remote  future.  But  alas!  they  seemed 
living  spirits,  able  to  hope  for  infinite  love,  progressive  virtue, 
the  beatific  vision  of  God  Himself  !  And  they  really  were — so 
much  manure  ?  Why,  as  has  already  been  asked,  are  such 
ephemerals  worth  living  for,  however  many  of  them  there 
may  be,  whose  lives  are  as  an  idle  flash  in  the  pan,  always 
promising,  yet  failing  to  attain  any  substantial  or  enduring 
good?  What  of  these  agonising  women  and  children,  now  the 
victims  of  Ottoman  blood-madness  ?  What  of  all  the  cramped, 
unlovely,  debased,  or  slow-tortured,  yet  evanescent  lives  of  my- 
riads in  our  great  cities  ?  These  cannot  have  the  philosophic 
aspirations  of  culture.  They  have  too  often  none  at  all.  Go 
proclaim  to  them  this  gospel,  supplementing  it  by  the  warn- 
ing that  in  the  end  there  will  remain  only  a  huge  block  of  ice 
in  a  "  wide,  grey,  lampless,  deep,  unpeopled  world  !  "  I  could 
believe  in  the  pessimism  of  Schopenhauer,  not  in  this  jaunty 
optimism  of  Comte. 

Are  we  then  indeed  orphans  ?  Will  the  tyrant  go  ever  un- 
punished, the  wrong  ever  unredressed,  the  poor  and  helpless 
remain  always  trampled  and  unhappy  ?  Must  the  battle  of 
good  and  evil  in  ourselves  and  others  hang  always  trembling 
in  the  balance,  for  ever  undecided  ;  or  does  it  all  mean  noth- 
ing more  than  we  see  now,  and  is  the  glorious  world  but  some 
ghastly  illusion  of  insanity  ?  When  "  the  fever  called  living 
is  over  at  last,"  is  all  indeed  over  ?  Thank  Grod  that  through 
this  Babel  of  discordant  voices  modem  men  can  still  hear  His 
accents  who  said :  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 


t 


A  MODERN '' symposium:'  87 

II. 
LORD  SELBORNE. 

I  am  too  well  satisfied  with  Lord  Blachford's  paper,  and 
with  much  that  is  in  the  other  papers  of  the  September  num- 
ber, to  think  that  I  can  add  anything  of  importance  to  them. 
The  little  I  would  say  has  reference  to  our  actual  knowledge 
of  the  soul  during  this  life  ;  meaning  by  the  soul  what  Lord 
Blachford  means,  viz.,  the  conscious  being,  which  each  man 
calls  "  himself." 

It  appears  to  me,  that  what  we  know  and  can  observe  tends 
to  confirm  the  testimony  of  our  consciousness  to  the  reality 
of  the  distinction  between  the  body  and  the  soul.  From  the 
necessity  of  the  case,  we  cannot  observe  any  manifestations 
of  the  soul,  except  during  the  time  of  its  association  with  the 
body.  This  limit  of  our  experience  applies,  not  to  the  "  ego," 
of  which  alone  each  man  has  any  direct  knowledge,  but  to 
the  perceptible  indications  of  consciousness  in  others.  It  is 
impossible,  in  the  nature  of  things,  that  any  man  can  ever 
have  had  experience  of  the  total  cessation  of  his  own  con- 
sciousness ;  and  the  idea  of  such  a  cessation  is  much  les^ 
natural,  and  much  more  difficult  to  realize,  than  that  of  its 
continuance.  We  observe  the  phenomena  of  death  in  others, 
and  infer,  by  irresistible  induction,  that  the  same  thing  will 
also  happen  to  ourselves.  But  these  phenomena  carry  us 
only  to  the  dissociation  of  the  "  ego  "  from  the  body,  not  to 
its  extinction. 

Nothing  else  can  be  credible,  if  our  consciousness  is  not ; 
and  I  have  said  that  this  bears  testimony  to  the  reality  of  the 


88  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

distinction  between  soul  and  body.  Each  man  is  conscious  of 
using  his  own  body  as  an  instrument,  in  the  same  sense  in 
which  he  would  use  any  other  machine.  He  passes  a  different 
moral  judgment  on  the  mechanical  and  involuntary  actions  of 
his  body,  from  that  which  he  feels  to  be  due  to  its  actions 
resulting  from  his  own  free  will.  The  unity  and  identity  of 
the  "  ego,"  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  life,  is  of  the  es- 
sence of  his  consciousness. 

In  accordance  with  this  testimony  are  such  facts  as  the 
following  :  that  the  body  has  no  proper  unity,  identity,  or  con- 
tinuity through  the  whole  of  life,  all  its  constituent  parts  being 
in  a  constant  state  of  flux  and  change  ;  that  many  parts  and 
organs  of  the  body  may  be  removed,  with  no  greater  effect 
upon  the  "  ego  "  than  when  we  take  off  any  article  of  cloth- 
ing ;  and  that  those  organs  which  cannot  be  removed  or 
stopped  in  their  action  without  death,  are  distributed  over  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  body,  and  are  homogeneous  in  their  material 
and  structure  with  others  which  we  can  lose  without  the  sense 
that  any  change  has  passed  over  our  proper  selves.  If,  on 
the  one  hand,  a  diseased  state  of  some  bodily  organs  inter- 
rupts the  reasonable  manifestations  of  the  soul  through  the 
body,  the  cases  are,  on  the  other,  not  rare,  in  which  the  whole 
body  decays,  and  falls  into  extreme  age,  weakness,  and  even 
decrepitude,  while  vigor,  freshness,  and  youthfulness  are  still 
characteristics  of  the  mind. 

The  attempt,  in  Butler's  work,  to  reason  from  the  indivisi- 
bility and  indestructibility  of  the  soul,  as  ascertained  facts,  is 
less  satisfactor}'  than  most  of  that  great  writer's  arguments, 
which  are,  generally,  rather  intended  to  be  destructive  of  ob* 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  89 

jections,  than  demonstrative  of  positive  trutlis.  But  the  modern 
scientific  doctrine,  that  all  matter,  and  all  force,  are  inde- 
structible, is  not  without  interest  in  relation  to  that  argument. 
There  must  at  least  be  a  natural  presumption  from  that  doc- 
trine, that,  if  the  soul  during  life  has  a  real  existence  distinct 
from  the  body,  it  is  not  annihilated  by  death.  If,  indeed,  it 
were  a  mere  "  force  "  (such  as  heat,  light,  &c.,  are  supposed 
by  modern  philosophers  to  be,  though  men  who  are  not  philoso- 
phers may  be  excused,  if  they  find  some  difficulty  in  under- 
standing exactly  what  is  meant  by  the  term,  when  so  used),  it 
would  be  consistent  with  that  doctrine,  that  the  soul  might 
be  transmuted,  after  death,  into  some  other  form  of  force. 
But  the  idea  of  "force,"  in  this  sense  (whatever  may  be  its 
exact  meaning),  seems  wholly  inapplicable  to  the  conscious 
being,  which  a  man  calls  "himself." 

The  resemblances  in  the  nature  and  organization  of  animal 
and  vegetable  bodies  seem  to  me  to  confirm,  instead  of  weak- 
ening, the  impression,  that  the  body  of  a  man  is  a  machine 
under  the  government  of  his  soul,  and  quite  distinct  from  it. 
Plants  manifest  no  consciousness  ;  all  our  knowledge  of  them 
tends  irresistibly  to  the  conclusion,  that  there  is  in  them  no 
intelligent,  much  less  any  reasonable,  principle  of  life.  Yet 
they  are  machines  very  like  the  human  body,  not  indeed  in 
their  formal  development  or  their  exact  chemical  processes, 
but  in  the  general  scheme  and  functions  of  their  organism-^ 
in  their  laws  of  nutrition,  digestion,  assimilation,  respiration, 
and  especially  reproduction.  They  are  bodies  without  souls, 
living  a  physical  life,  and  subject  to  a  physical  death.  The 
inferior  animals  have  bodies  still  more  like  our  own ;  indeed, 


9p  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

in  their  higher  orders,  resembling  them  very  closely  indeed  ; 
and  they  have  also  a  principle  of  life  quite  different  from  that 
of  plants,  with  various  degrees  of  consciousness,  intelligence, 
and  volition.  Even  in  their  principle  of  life,  arguments  founded 
on  observation  and  comparison  (though  not  on  individual 
consciousness),  more  or  less  similar  to  those  which  apply  to 
man,  tend  to  show  that  there  is  something  distinct  from,  and 
more  than,  the  body.  But,  of  all  these  inferior  animals,  the 
intelligence  differs  from  that  of  man,  not  in  degree  only,  but 
in  kind.  Nature  is  their  simple,  uniform,  and  sufficient  law  ; 
their  very  arts  (which  are  often  wonderful)  come  to  them  by 
nature,  except  when  they  are  trained  by  man  ;  there  is  in 
them  no  sign  of  discourse  of  reason,  of  morality,  or  of  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  The  very  similarity  of  their 
bodily  structure  to  that  of  man  tends,  when  these  differences 
are  noted,  to  add  weight  to  the  other  natural  evidence  of  the 
distinctness  of  man's  soul  from  his  body. 

The  immortality  of  the  soul  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of 
those  truths,  for  the  belief  in  which,  when  authoritatively 
declared,  man  is  prepared  by  the  very  constitution  of  his 
nature. 

CANON  BARRY. 

Any  one  who  from  the  ancient  positions  of  Christianity 
looks  on  the  controversy  between  Mr.  Harrison  and  Profes- 
sor Huxley  on  "The  Soul  and  Future  Life"  (to  which  I  pro- 
pose mainly  to  confine  myself)  will  be  tempted  with  Faul- 
conbridge  to  obser\-e,  not  without  a  touch  of  grim  satisfac- 
tion, how,  "  from   North  to  South,  Austria  and  France  shoot 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM."  gt 

in  each  other's  mouth."  The  fight  is  fierce  enough  to  make 
him  ask,  Tantcene  animis  safiientibus  irce  ?  But  he  will  see 
that  each  is  far  more  effective  in  battering  the  lines  of  the 
enemy  than  in  strengthening  his  own.  Nor  will  he  be  greatly 
concerned  if  both  from  time  to  time  lodge  a  shot  or  two  in 
the  battlements  on  which  he  stands,  with  some  beating  of 
that  "  drum  scientific,"  which  seems  to  me  to  be  in  these  days 
always  as  resonant,  sometimes  with  as  much  result  of  merely 
empty  sound,  as  "  the  drum  ecclesiastic,"  against  which  Pro- 
fessor Huxley  is  so  fond  of  warning  us.  Those  whom  Mr. 
Harrison  calls  "  theologians,"  and  whom  Professor  Huxley 
less  appropriately  terms  "  priests  "  (for  of  priesthood  there  is 
here  no  question),  may  indeed  think  that,  if  the  formidable 
character  of  an  opponent's  position  is  to  be  measured  by  the 
scorn  and  fury  with  which  it  is  assailed,  their  ground  must 
be  strong  indeed ;  and  they  will  possibly  remember  an  old 
description  of  a  basis  less  artificial  than  "  pulpit  stairs/'  from 
which  men  may  look  without  much  alarm,  while  "  the  floods 
come  and  the  winds  blow."  Gaining  from  this  conviction 
courage  to  look  more  closely,  they  will  perceive,  as  I  have 
said,  that  each  of  the  combatants  is  far  stronger  on  the  de- 
structive than  on  the  constructive  side. 

Mr.  Harrison's  earnest  and  eloquent  plea  against  the 
materialism  which  virtually,  if  not  theoretically,  makes  all 
that  we  call  spirit  a  mere  function  of  material  organization 
(like  the  d-piwAa  of  the  Phcedo),  and  against  the  exclusive 
"  scientism "  which,  because  it  cannot  find  certain  entities 
along  its  line  of  investigation,  asserts  loudly  that  they  are 
either  non-existent  or  *'  unknowable,"  is  strong,  and  (J>ace  Pro* 


92  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

fessor  Huxley)  needful ;  not,  indeed,  against  him  (for  he 
knows  better  than  to  despise  the  metaphysics  in  which  he  is 
so  great  an  adept),  but  against  many  adherents,  prominent 
rather  than  eminent,  of  the  school  in  which  he  is  a  master. 
Nor  is  its  force  destroyed  by  exposing,  however  keenly  and 
sarcastically,  some  inconsistencies  of  argument,  not  inaptly 
corresponding  (as  it  seems  to  me)  with  similiar  inconsist- 
encies in  the  popular  exposition  of  the  views  which  it  attacks. 
If  Professor  Huxley  is  right  (as  surely  he  is)  in  pleading  for 
perfect  freedom  and  boldness  in  the  investigation  of  the 
phenomena  of  humanity  from  the  physical  side,  the  counter 
plea  is  equally  irresistible  for  the  value  of  an  independent 
philosophy  of  mind,  starting  from  the  metaphysical  pole  of 
thought,  and  reasoning  positively  on  the  phenomena,  which, 
though  they  may  have  many  connections  with  physical  laws, 
are  utterly  inexplicable  by  them.  We  might,  indeed,  demur 
to  his  inference  that  the  discovery  of  "  antecedence  in  the 
molecular  fact  "  necessarily  leads  to  a  "  physical  theory  of 
moral  phenomena,"  and  vice  versa,  as  savoring  a  little  of  the 
Post  hoc^  ergo  propter  hoc.  Inseparable  connection  it  would 
imply  ;  but  the  ultimate  causation  might  lie  in  something  far 
deeper,  underlying  both  "  the  molecular  "  and  "  the  spiritual 
fact."  But  still,  to  establish  such  antecedence  would  be  an 
important  scientific  step,  and  the  attempt  might  be  made  from 
either  side. 

On  the  other  hand.  Professor  Huxley's  trenchant  attack 
on  the  unreality  of  the  Positivist  assumption  of  a  right  to  take 
names  which  in  the  old  religion  at  least  mean  something  firm 
and  solid,  and  to   sublime   them   into  the  cloudy  forms  of 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  93 

transcendental  theory,  and  on  the  arbitrary  application  of  the 
word  "  selfishness,"  with  all  its  degrading  associations,  to  the 
consciousness  of  personality  here  and  the  hope  of  a  nobler 
personality  in  the  future,  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  I  fear 
that  his  friends  the  priests  would  be  accused  of  the  crowning 
sin  of  "  ecclesiasticism  "  (whatever  that  may  be)  if  they  used 
denunciations  half  so  sharp.  Except  with  a  few  sarcasms 
which  he  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  flinging  at  them  by 
the  way,  they  will  have  nothing  with  which  to  quarrel ;  and 
possibily  they  may  even  learn  from  him  to  consider  these  as 
claps  of  "  cheap  thunder  "  from  the  "  pulpit,"  in  that  old  sense 
of  the  word  in  which  it  designates  the  professorial  chair. 

The  whole  of  Mr.  Harrison's  two  papers  may  be  resolved 
into  an  attack  on  the  true  individuality  of  man,  first  on  the 
speculative,  then  on  the  moral  side  ;  from  the  one  point  of 
view  denouncing  the  belief  in  it  as  a  delusion,  from  the  other 
branding  the  desire  of  it  as  a  moral  degradation.  The  con- 
nection of  the  two  arguments  is  instructive  and  philosophical. 
For  no  argument  merely  speculative,  ignoring  all  moral  con- 
siderations, will  really  be  listened  to.  His  view  of  the  soul 
as  "  a  consensus  of  human  faculties  "  reminds  us  curiously  of 
the  Buddhist  "  groups  ;  "  his  description  of  "  a  perpetuity  of 
sensation  as  the  true  Hell "  breathes  the  very  spirit  of  the 
longing  for  Nirvana.  Both  he  and  his  Asiatic  predecessors 
are  certainly  right  in  considering  the  "  delusion  of  individual 
existence  "  as  the  chief  delusion  to  be  got  rid  of  on  the  way  to 
a  perfect  Agnosticism,  in  respect  of  all  that  is  not  merely 
phenomenal.  It  is  true  that  he  protests  in  terms  against  a 
naked  materialism,  ignoring  all  spiritual  phenomena  as  having 


94  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

a  distinctive  character  of  their  own  ;  but  yet,  when  he  tells  us 
that  "  to  talk  about  a  bodiless  being  thinking  and  loving  is 
simply  to  talk  of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  Nothing,"  he 
certainly  appears  to  assume  substantially  the  position  of  the 
materialism  he  denounces,  which  (as  has  been  already  said) 
holds  these  spiritual  energies  to  be  merely  results  of  the  bodily 
organization,  as  the  excitation  of  an  electric  current  is  the 
result  of  the  juxtaposition  of  certain  material  subtances.  If  a 
bodiless  being  is  Nothing,  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  an 
intrinsic  or  independent  spiritual  life  ;  and  it  is  difficult  for 
ordinary  minds  to  attach  any  distinct  meaning  to  the  declara- 
tion that  the  soul  is  "  a  conscious  unity  of  being,"  if  that  being 
depends  on  an  organization  which  is  unquestionably  discerpti- 
ble,  and  of  which  (as  Butler  remarks)  large  parts  may  be  lost 
without  affecting  this  consciousness  of  personality. 

Now  this  is,  after  all,  the  only  point  worth  fighting  about. 
Mr.  Hutton  has  already  said  with  perfect  truth  that  by  "  the 
Soul  "  we  mean  that  "  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  sense 
of  personal  identity — the  thread  of  the  continuity  running 
through  all  our  chequered  life,"  and  which  remains  unbroken 
amidst  the  constant  flux  of  change  both  in  our  material  body, 
and  in  the  circumstances  of  our  material  life.  This  belief  is 
wholly  independent  of  any  "  metaphysical  hypothesis  "  of 
modern  "  orthodoxy,"  whether  it  is,  or  is  not,  rightly  described 
as  a  "  juggle  of  ideas,"  and  of  any  examination  of  the  question 
(on  which  Lord  Blachford  has  touched)  whether,  if  it  seem 
such  to  "  those  trained  in  positive  habits  of  thought,"  the  fault 
lies  in  it  or  in  them.  I  may  remark  in  passing,  that- in  this 
broad  and  simple  sense  it  certainly  runs  through  the  whole 


A  MODERN '' symposium:'  95 

Bible,  and  has  much  that  is  "  akin  to  it  in  the  Old  Testament." 
For  even  in  the  darkest  and  most  shadowy  ideas  of  the  Shebl 
of  the  other  world,  the  belief  in  a  true  personal  identity  is 
taken  absolutely  for  granted  ;  and  it  is  not  a  little  curious  to 
notice  how  in  the  Book  of  Job  the  substitution  for  it  of  "  an 
immortality  in  the  race  "  (although  there  not  in  the  whole  of 
humanity,  but  simply  in  the  tribe  or  family)  is  offered,  and 
rejected  as  utterly  insufficient  to  satisfy  either  the  speculation 
of  the  intellect  or  the  moral  demands  of  the  conscience.^  Now 
it  is  not  worth  while  to  protest  against  the  caricature  of  this 
belief,  as  a  belief  in  "man  plus  a  heterogeneous  entity  "  called 
tne  soul,  which  can  be  only  intended  as  a  sarcasm.  But  we 
cannot  acquiesce  in  any  statement,  which  represents  the  belief 
in  this  immaterial  and  indivisible  personality  as  resting  simply 
on  the  notion  that  it  is  needed  to  explain  the  acts  of  the 
human  organism.  For  as  a  matter  of  fact,  those  who  believe 
in  it  conceive  it  to  be  declared  by  a  direct  consciousness,  the 
most  simple  and  ultimate  of  all  acts  of  consciousness.  They 
hold  this  consciousness  of  a  personal  identity  and  individ- 
uality, unchanging  amidst  material  change,  to  be  embodied 
in  all  the  language  and  literature  of  man  ;  and  they  point  to 
the  inconsistencies  in  the  very  words  of  those  who  argue 
against  it,  as  proofs  that  man  cannot  divest  himself  of  it.  No 
doubt  they  believe  that  so  the  acts  of  the  organism  are  best 
explained,  but  it  is  not  on  the  necessity  of  such  explanation 
that  they  base  their  belief :  and  this  fact  separates  altogether 
their  belief  in  the  human  soul,  as  an  immaterial  entity,  from 
those  conceptions  of  a  soul,  in  animal,  vegetable,  even  inor- 
I  Seejobxiv.  21,  22. 


g6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

ganic  substances,  with  which  Mr.  Harrison  insists  on  confound 
ing  it.  Of  the  true  character  of  animal  nature  we  know 
nothing  (although  we  may  conjecture  much),  just  because  we 
have  not  in  regard  to  it  the  direct  consciousness,  which  we  have 
in  regard  of  our  own  nature.  Accordingly  we  need  not 
trouble  our  argument  for  a  soul  in  man  with  any  speculation 
as  to  a  true  soul  in  the  brute  creatures. 

In  what  relation  this  personality  stands  to  the  particles 
which  at  any  moment  compose  the  body,  and  which  are  cer- 
tainly in  a  continual  state  of  flux,  or  to  the  law  of  structure 
which  in  living  beings,  by  some  power  to  us  unknown,  assimi- 
lates these  particles,  is  a  totally  different  question.  I  fear 
that  Mr.  Harrison  will  be  displeased  with  me  if  I  call  it  "  a 
mystery."  But,  whatever  future  advances  of  science  may  do 
for  us  in  the  matter — and  I  hope  they  may  do  much — I  am 
afraid  I  must  still  say  that  this  relation  is  a  mystery,  which  has 
been  at  different  times  imperfectly  represented,  both  by  formal 
theories  and  by  metaphors,  all  of  which  by  the  very  nature  of 
language  are  connected  with  original  physical  conceptions. 
Let  it  be  granted  freely  that  the  progress  of  modern  physio- 
logical science  has  rendered  obsolete  the  old  idea  that  the 
various  organs  of  the  body  stand  to  the  true  personal  being 
in  a  purely  instrumental  relation,  such  as  (for  example)  is 
described  by  Butler  in  his  Analog}',  in  the  celebrated  chapter 
on  the  Future  Life.  The  power  of  physical  influences  acting 
upon  the  body  to  affect  the  energies  of  thought  and  will  is 
unquestionable.  The  belief  that  the  action  of  all  these  ener- 
gies is  associated  with  molecular  change  is,  to  say  the  least, 
highly  probable.     And  I  may  remark  that  Christianity  has  no 


A  MODERN-  "  SYMPOSIUMS  97 

quarrel  with  these  discoveries  of  modern  science ;,  for  its 
doctrine  is  that  for  the  perfection  of  man's  being  a  bodily 
organisation  is  necessary,  and  that  the  "  intermediate  state  " 
is  a  state  of  suspense  and  imperfection,  out  of  which,  at  the 
word  of  the  Creator,  the  indestructible  personality  of  man 
shall  rise,  to  assimilate  to  itself  a  glorified  body.  The  doc- 
trine of  the  Resurrection  of  the  Body  boldly  faces  the  per- 
plexity as  to  the  connection  of  a  body  with  personality,  which 
so  greatly  troubled  ancient  speculation  on  the  immortality  of 
the  soul.  In  respect  of  the  intermediate  "  state,"  it  only  ex- 
tends (I  grant  immeasurably)  the  experience  of  those  suspen- 
sions'of  the  will  and  the  full  consciousness  of  personality, 
which  we  have  in  life,  in  sleep,  swoon,  stupor,  dependent  on 
normal  and  abnormal  conditions  of  the  bodily  organization ; 
and  in  respect  of  the  Resurrection,  it  similarly  extends  the 
action  of  that  mysterious  creative  will,  which  moulds  the 
human  body  of  the  present  life  slowly  and  gradually  out  of  the 
mere  germ,  and  forms,  with  marvellous  rapidity  and  exuberance 
of  prolific  power,  lower  organisms  of  high  perfection  and 
beaut)'. 

But  while  modern  science  teaches  us  to  recognise  the  in- 
fluence of  the  bodily  organization  on  mental  energy,  it  has, 
with  at  least  equal  clearness,  brought  out  in  compensation 
the  distinct  power  of  that  mental  energy,  acting  by  a  process 
wholly  different  from  the  chain  of  physical  causation,  to  alter 
functionally,  and  even  organically,  the  bodily  frame  itself. 
The  Platonic  Socrates  (it  will  be  remembered)  dwells  on  the 
power  of  the  spirit  to  control  bodily  appetite  and  even  passion 
(-0  0u,uosidii,),  as  also  on  its  having  the  power  to   assume 

7 


98  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

qualities,  as  a  proof  that  it  is  not  a  mere  dp,uov{u.  Surel/ 
modern  science  has  greatly  strengthened  the  former  part  of 
his  argument,  by  these  discoveries  of  the  power  of  mind  over 
even  the  material  of  the  body.  This  is  strikingly  illustrated 
(for  example)  to  the  physician,  both  by  the  morbid  phenom- 
ena of  what  is  called  generally  "hysteria,"  in  which  the 
belief  in  the  existence  of  physical  disease  actually  produces 
the  most  remarkable  physical  effects  on  the  body ;  and  also 
by  the  more  natural  action  of  the  mind  on  the  body,  when  in 
sickness  a  resolution  to  get  well  masters  the  force  of  disease, 
or  a  desire  to  die  slowly  fulfils  itself.  Perhaps  even  more 
extraordinary  is  the  fact  (I  believe  sufficiently  ascertained) 
that  during  pregnancy  the  presentation  of  ideas  to  the  mind 
of  the  mother  actually  affects  the  physical  organization  of  the 
offspring.  Hence  I  cannot  but  think  that,  at  least  as  dis- 
tinctly as  ever,  our  fuller  experience  discloses  to  us  two  dif- 
ferent processes  of  causation  acting  upon  our  complex  human- 
ity— the  one  wholly  physical,  acting  sometimes  by  the  coarser 
mechanical  agencies,  sometimes  by  the  subtler  physiological 
agencies,  and  in  both  cases  connecting  man  through  the  body 
with  the  great  laws  ruling  the  physical  universe — the  other 
wholly  metaphysical,  acting  by  the  simple  presentation  of 
ideas  to  the  mind  (which  may,  indeed,  be  so  purely  subjective 
that  they  correspond  to  no  objective  reality  whatever),  and, 
through  them,  secondarily  acting  upon  the  body,  producing 
no  doubt  the  molecular  changes  in  the  brain  and  the  affec- 
tions of  the  nervous  tissue,  which  accompany  and  exhibit 
mental  emotion.  In  the  normal  condition  of  the  earthly  life, 
these  two  powers  act  and  react  upon  each  other,  neither  being 


I 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  gg 

absolutely  independent  of  the  other.     In  the  perfect  state  of 
the  Hereafter  we  believe  that  it  shall  be  so  still.     But  we  do 
know  of  cases  in  which  the  metaphysical  power  is  apparently 
dormant  or  destroyed,  in  which  accordingly  all  emotions  can 
be  produced  automatically  by  physical  processes  only,  as  hap- 
pens occasionally  in  dreams  (whether  of  the  day  or  night), 
and   morbid   conditions,  as  of  idiocy,  which  may  themselves 
be  produced  either  by  physical  injury  or  by  mental  shock.     I 
cannot  myself  see  any  difficulty  in  conceiving  that  the  meta- 
physical power  might  act,  though  no  doubt  in  a  way  of  which 
we  have  no  present  experience,  and  (according  to  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine)  in  a  condition  of  some  imperfection,  when  the 
bodily  organization  is  either  suspended  or  removed.     For  to 
me  it  seems  clear  that  there  is  something  existent,  which  is 
neither  material  nor  even  dependent  on  material  organization. 
Whether  it  be  stigmatized  as  a  "  heterogeneous  entity,"  or 
graciously  designated  by  the  "  good  old  word  soul,"  is  a  matter 
of  great  indifference.     There  it  is  ;  and,  if  it  is,  I  cannot  see 
why  it  is  inconceivable  that  it  should  survive  all   material 
change.     For  here,  as  in  other  cases,  there  seems  to  be  a  fre- 
quent confusion  between  conceiving  that  a  thing  may  be,  and 
conceiving  how  it  may  be.     Of  course  we  cannot  figure  to 
ourselves  the  method  of  the  action  of  a  spiritual  energy  apart 
from  a  bodily  organization ;  in  the  attempt  to  do  so  the  mind 
glides  into  quasi-corporeal  conceptions  and  expressions,  which 
are  a  fair  mark  for  satire.     But  that  there  may  be  such  action 
is  to  me  far  less  inconceivable,  than  that  the  mere  fact  of  the 
dissolution  of  what  is  purely  physical  should  draw  with  it  the 
destruction  of  a  soul,  that  can  think,  love,  and  pray. 


lOO  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  dwell  at  any  length  on  the 
second  of  Mr.  Harrison's  propositions,  denouncing  the  desire 
of  personal  and  individual  existence  as  "selfishness,"  with  a 
vigor  quite  worthy  of  his  royal  Prussian  model.  But  history, 
after  all,  has  recognized  that  the  poor  grenadiers  had  some- 
thing to  say  for  themselves.  Mr.  Hutton  has  already  sug- 
gested that,  if  Mr.  Harrison  had  studied  the  Christian 
conception  of  the  future  life,  he  could  not  have  written  some 
of  his  most  startling  passages,  and  has  protested  against  the 
misapplication  of  the  word  "selfishness,"  which  in  this,  as  in 
other  controversies,  quietly  begs  the  question  proposed  for 
discussion.  The  fact  is  that  this  theory  of  "  Altruism,"  so 
eloquently  set  forth  by  Mr.  Harrison  and  others  of  his  school, 
simply  contradicts  human  nature,  not  in  its  weakness  or  sins, 
but  in  its  essential  characteristics.  It  is  certainly  not  the 
weakest  or  ignoblest  of  human  souls,  who  have  felt,  at  the 
times  of  deepest  thought  and  feeling,  conscious  of  but  two 
existences — their  own,  and  the  Supreme  Existence,  whether 
they  call  it  Nature,  Law,  or  God.  Surely  this  Humanity  is  a 
very  unworthy  deity,  at  once  a  vague  and  shadowy  abstrac- 
tion, and,  so  far  as  it  can  be  distinctly  conceived,  like  some 
many-headed  idol,  magnifying  the  evil  and  hideousness,  as 
well  as  the  good  and  beauty,  of  the  individual  nature.  But 
if  it  were  not  so,  still  that  individuality,  as  well  as  unity,  is  the 
law  of  human  nature,  is  singularly  indicated  by  the  very  nature 
of  our  mental  operations.  In  the  study  and  perception  of 
truth,  each  man,  though  he  may  be  guided  to  it  by  others, 
stands  absolutely  alone  ;  in  love,  on  the  other  hand,  he  loses 
all  but  the  sense  of  unity ;  while  the  conscience  holds  the 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM.''  loi 

balance,  recognizing  at  once  individuality  and  unity.  Indeed, 
the  sacredness  of  individuality  is  so  guarded  by  the  darkness 
which  hides  each  soul  from  all  perfect  knowledge  of  man,  so 
deeply  impressed  on  the  mind  by  the  consciousness  of  inde- 
pendent thought  and  will,  and  on  the  soul  by  the  sense  of  in- 
communicable responsibility,  that  it  cannot  merge  itself  in 
the  life  of  the  race.  Self-sacrifice,  or  unselfishness,  is  the 
conscious  sacrifice,  not  of  our  own  individuality,  but  of  that 
which  seems  to  minister  to  it,  for  the  sake  of  others.  The 
law  of  human  nature,  moreover,  is  such  that  the  very  attempt 
at  such  sacrifice  inevitably  strengthens  the  spiritual  individu- 
ality in  all  that  makes  it  worth  having.  To  talk  of  "  a  per- 
petuity of  sensation  as  a  true  Hell "  in  a  being  supposed 
capable  of  indefinite  growth  in  wisdom,  righteousness,  and 
love,  is  surely  to  use  words  which  have  no  intelligible  mean- 
ing. 

No  doubt,  if  we  are  to  take  as  our  guiding  principle  either 
Altruism  or  what  is  rightly  designated  "  selfishness,"  we  must 
infinitely  prefer  the  former.  But  where  is  the  necessity  ?  No 
doubt  the  task  of  harmonizing  the  two  is  difficult.  But  all 
things  worth  doing  are  difficult  j  and  it  might  be  worth  while 
to  consider  whether  there  is  not  something  in  the  old  belief, 
which  finds  the  key  tothi«  difficult  problem  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  relation  to  One  Supreme  Being,  and,  recognizing 
both  the  love  of  man  and  the  love  of  self,  bids  them  both 
agree  in  conscious  subordination  to  a  higher  love  of  God. 
What  makes  our  life  here  will,  we  believe,  make  it  up  here- 
after, only  in  a  purer  and  nobler  form.  On  earth  we  live  at 
once  in  our  own  individuality  and  in  the  life  of  others.     Our 


102  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

heaven  is  not  the  extinction  of  either  element  of  that  life — 
either  of  individuality,  as  Mr.  Harrison  would  have  it,  or  of 
the  life  in  others,  as  in  that  idea  of  a  selfish  immortality  which 
he  has,  I  think,  set  up  in  order  to  denounce  it — but  the  con- 
tinued harmony  of  both  under  an  infinitely  increased  power  of 
that  supreme  principle. 

MR.   W,  R.  GREG. 

It  would  seem  impossible  for  Mr.  Harrison  to  write  any- 
thing that  is  not  stamped  with  a  vigor  and  racy  eloquence 
peculiarly  his  own  ;  and  the  paper  which  has  opened  the  pres- 
ent discussion  is  probably  far  the  finest  he  has  given  to  the 
world.  There  is  a  lofty  tone  in  its  imaginative  passages 
which  strikes  us  as  unique  among  Negationists,  and  a  vein  of 
what  is  almost  tenderness  pervading  them,  which  was  not  ob- 
served in  his  previous  writings.  The  two  combined  render 
the  secojid  portion  one  of  the  most  touching  and  impressive 
speculations  we  have  read.  Unfortunately,  however,  Mr. 
Harrison's  innate  energy  is  apt  to  boil  over  into  a  vehemence 
approaching  the  intemperate  ;  and  the  antagonistic  atmos- 
phere is  so  native  to  his  spirit  that  he  can  scarcely  enter  the 
lists  of  controversy  without  an  irresistible  tendency  to  become 
aggressive  and  unjust  ;  and  he  is,  too,  inclined  to  forget  the 
first  duty  of  the  chivalric  militant  logician,  namely,  to  select 
the  adversary  you  assail  from  the  nobler  and  not  the  lower 
form  and  rank  of  the  doctrine  in  dispute.  The  inconsisten- 
cies and  weaknesses  into  which  this  neglect  has  betrayed  him 
in  the  instance  before  us  have,  however,  been  so  severely 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  1 03 

dealt  with  by  Mr.  Hutton  and  Professor  Huxley,  that  I  wish 
rather  to  direct  attention  to  two  or  three  points  of  his  argu- 
ment that  might  otherwise  be  in  danger  of  escaping  the  ap- 
preciation and  gratitude  they  may  fairly  claim. 

We  owe  him  something,  it  appears  to  me,  for  having  in- 
augurated a  discussion  which  has  stirred  so  many  minds  to 
give  us  on  such  a  question  so  much  interesting  and  profound, 
and  more  especially  so  much  suggestive,  thought.  We  owe 
him  much,  too,  because,  in  dealing  with  a  thesis  which  it  is 
specially  the  temptation  and  the  practice  to  handle  as  a  theme 
for  declamation,  he  has  so  written  as  to  force  his  antagonists 
to  treat  it  argumentatively  and  searchingly  as  well.  Some  grati- 
tude, moreover,  is  due  to  the  man  who  had  the  moral  courage 
boldly  to  avow  his  adhesion  to  the  negative  view,  when  that 
view  is  not  only  in  the  highest  degree  unpopular,  but  is  re- 
garded for  the  most  part  as  condemnable  into  the  bargain,  and 
when,  besides,  it  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  painful  to  every  man 
of  vivid. imagination  and  of  strong  affections.  It  is  to  his 
credit,  also,  I  venture  to  think,  that,  holding  this  view,  he  has 
put  it  forward,  not  as  an  opinion  or  speculation,  but  as  a 
settled  and  deliberate  conviction,  maintainable  by  distinct 
and  reputable  reasonings,  and  to  be  controverted  only  by 
pleas  analogous  in  character.  For  if  there  be  a  topic  within 
the  wide  range  of  human  questioning  in  reference  to  which 
tampering  with  mental  integrity  might  seem  at  first  sight  par- 
donable, it  is  that  of  a  future  and  continued  existence.  If 
belief  be  ever  permissible — perhaps  I  ought  to  say,  if  belief 
be  ever  possible — on  the  ground  that  "  there  is  peace  and  joy 
in  believing,"  it  is  here,  where  the  issues  are  so  vast,  where 


I04  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

the  conception  in  its  highest  form  is  so  ennobling,  where  the 
practical  influences  of  the  Creed  are,  in  appearance  at  least, 
so  beneficent.  But  faith  thus  arrived  at  has  ever  clinging  to 
it  the  curse  belonging  to  all  illegitimate  possessions.  It  is 
precarious,  because  the  flaw  in  its  title-deeds,  barely  sus- 
pected perhaps  and  never  acknowledged,  may  any  moment  be 
discovered  ;  misgivings  crop  up  most  surely  in  those  hard 
and  gloomy  crises  of  our  lives  when  unflinching  confidence  is 
most  essential  to  our  peace  ;  and  the  fairy  fabric,  built  up 
not  on  grounded  conviction  but  on  craving  need,  crumbles 
into  dust,  and  leaves  the  spirit  with  no  solid  sustenance  to 
rest  upon. 

Unconsciously  and  by  implication  Mr.  Harrison  bears 
a  testimony  he  little  intended,  not  indeed  to  the  future  exist- 
ence he  denies,  but  to  the  irresistible  longing  and  necessity 
for  the  very  belief  he  labors  to  destroy.  Perhaps  no  writer 
has  more  undesignedly  betrayed  his  conviction  that  men  will 
not  and  cannot  be  expected  to  surrender  their  faith  and  hope 
without  at  least  something  like  a  compensation:  certainly  no  one 
has  ever  toiled  with  more  noble  rhetoric  to  gild  and,  illumin- 
ate the  substitute  with  which  he  would  fain  persuade  us  to 
rest  satisfied.  The  nearly  universal  craving  for  posthumous 
existence  and  enduring  consciousness,  which  he  depreciates 
with  so  harsh  a  scorn,  and  which  he  will  not  accept  as  offer- 
ing even  the  shadow  or  simulacrum  of  an  argument  for  the 
Creed,  he  yet  respects  enough  to  recognize  that  it  has  its 
foundation  deep  in  the  framework  of  our  being,  that  it  cannot 
be  silenced  and  may  not  be  ignored.  Having  no  precious 
metal  to  pay  it  with,  he  issues  paper  money  instead,  skilfully 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  j  05 

engraved  and  gorgeously  gilded  to  look  as  like  the  real  coin 
as  may  be.  It  is  in  vain  to  deny  that  there  is  something 
touching  and  elevating  in  the  flowing  eloquence  with  which 
he  paints  the  picture  of  lives  devoted  to  efforts  in  the  service 
of  the  race,  spent  in  laboring,  each  of  us  in  his  own  sphere, 
to  bring  about  the  grand  ideal  he  fancies  for  humanity,  and 
drawing  strength  and  reward  for  long  years  of  toil  in  the  an- 
ticipation of  what  man  will  be  when  those  noble  dreams  shall 
have  been  realized  at  last — even  though  we  shall  never  see 
what  we  have  wrought  so  hard  to  win.  It  is  vain  to  deny, 
moreover,  that  these  dreams  appear  more  solid  and  less  wild 
or  vague  when  we  remember  how  close  an  analogy  we  may 
detect  in  the  labors  of  thousands  around  us  who  spend  their 
wjiole  career  on  earth  in  building  up,  by  sacrifice  and  painful 
struggles,  wealth,  station,  fame  and  character  for  their  chil- 
dren, whose  enjoyment  of  these  possessions  they  may  never 
live  to  see,  without  their  passionate  zeal  in  the.  pursuit  being 
in  any  way  cooled  by  the  discouraging  reflection.  Does  not 
this  oblige  us  to  confess  that  the  posthumous  existence  Mr. 
Harrison  describes  is  not  altogether  an  airy  fiction  ?  Still, 
somehow,  after  a  few  moments  spent  in  the  thin  atmosphere 
into  which  his  brilliant  language  and  unselfish  imagination 
have  combined  to  raise  us,  we — ninety-nine  out  of  every  hun- 
dred of  us  at  the  least — sink  back  breathless  and  wearied  after 
the  unaccustomed  soaring  amid  light  so  dim,  and  craving  as 
of  yore  after  something  more  personal,  something  more  solid, 
and  more  certain. 

To  that  more  solid  certainty  I  am  obliged  to  confess, 
sorrowfully,  and  with  bitter  disappointment,  that  I  can  contrib- 


io6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

ute  nothing — nothing,  I  mean,  that  resembles  evidence,  that 
can  properly  be  called  argument,  or  that  I  can  hope  will  be 
received  as  even  the  barest  confirmation.  Alas  !  can  the 
wisest  and  most  sanguine  of  us  all  bring  anything  beyond  our 
own  sentiments  to  swell  the  common  hope  ?  We  have  aspira- 
tions to  multiply,  but  who  has  any  knowledge  to  enrich  our 
store  ?  I  have  of  course  read  most  of  the  pleadings  in  favor 
of  the  ordinary  doctrine  of  the  Future  State  ;  naturally,  also, 
in  common  with  all  graver  natures,  I  have  meditated  yet 
more  ;  but  these  pleadings,  for  the  most  part,  sound  to  anxious 
ears  little  else  than  the  passionate  outcries  of  souls  that  can- 
not endure  to  part  with  hopes  on  which  they  have  been  nur- 
tured, and  which  are  intertwined  with  their  tenderest  affections. 
Logical  reasons  to  compel  conviction,  I  have  met  with  none-r- 
even  from  the  interlocutors  in  this  actual  Symposium.  Yet 
few  can  have  sought  for  such  more  yearningly.  I  may  say  I 
share  in  the  anticipations  of  believers  ;  but  I  share  them  as 
aspirations,  sometimes  approaching  almost  to  a  faith,  occa- 
sionally and  for  a  few  moments  perhaps  rising  into  something 
like  a  trust,  but  never  able  to  settle  into  the  consistency  of  a 
definite  and  enduring  creed.  I  do  not  know  how  far  even  this 
incomplete  state  of  mind  may  not  be  merely  the  residuum  of 
early  upbringing  and  habitual  associations.  But  I  must  be  true 
to  my  darkness  as  courageously  as  to  my  light.  I  cannot  rest 
in  comfort  on  arguments  that  to  my  spirit  have  no  cogency, 
nor  can  I  pretend  to  respect  or  be  content  with  reasons  which 
carry  no  penetrating  conviction  along  with  them.  I  will  not 
make  buttresses  do  the  work  or  assume  the  posture  of  founda- 
tions.  I  will  not  cry  "  Peace,  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace." 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM.  "  i  ©; 

I  have  said  elsewhere,  and  at  various  epochs  of  life  why  the 
ordinary  "proofs"  confidently  put  forward  and  gorgeously 
arrayed  "  have  no  help  in  them  ; "  while,  nevertheless,  the 
pictures  Vt'hich  imagination  depicts  are  so  inexpressibly 
alluring.  The  more  I  think  and  question,  the  more  do  doubts 
and  difficulties  crowd  around  my  horizon  and  cloud  over  my 
sky.  Thus  it  is  that  I  am  unable  to  bring  aid  or  sustainment 
to  minds  as  troubled  as  my  own,  and  perhaps  less  willing  to 
admit  that  the  great  enigma  is,  and  must  remain,  insoluble. 
Of  two  things,  however,  I  feel  satisfied — that  the  negative 
doctrine  is  no  more  susceptible  of  proof  than  the  affirmative, 
and  that  our  opinion,  be  it  only  honest,  can  have  no  influence 
whatever  on  the  issue,  nor  upon  its  bearing  on  ourselves. 

Two  considerations  that  have  been  borne  in  upon  my  mind 
while  following  this  controversy  may  be  worth  mention- 
ing, though  neither  can  be  called  exactly  helpful.  One  is 
that  we  find  the  most  confident,  unquestioning,  dogmatic  belief 
in  heaven  (and  its  correlative)  in  those  whose  heaven  is  the 
most  unlikely  and  impossible,  the  most  entirely  made  up 
of  mundane  and  material  elements,  of  gorgeous  glories  and  of 
fading    splendors^ — ^just    such    things    as    uncultured    and 

'  "  There  may  be  crowns  of  material  splendour,  there  may  be 
trees  of  unfading  loveliness,  there  may  be  pavements  of  emerald,  and 
canopies  of  the  brightest  radiance,  and  gardens  of  deep  and  tranquil 
security,  and  palaces  of  proud  and  stately  decoration,  and  a  city  of  lofty 
pinnacles,  through  which  there  unceasingly  flows  a  river  of  gladness,  and 
where  jubilee  is  ever  sung  by  a  concord  of  seraphic  voices." — Dr.  Chal- 
mers' Sermons. 

"  Poor  fragments  all  of  this  low  earth — 
Such  as  in  dreams  could  hardly  soothe 
A  soul  that  once  had  tasted  of  immortal  truth." — Ckrisiian  Year. 


lo8  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

undisciplined  natures  most  envied  or  pined  after  on  earth, 
such  as  the  lower  order  of  minds  could  best  picture  and 
would  naturally  be  most  dazzled  by.  The  higher  intelli- 
gences of  our  race,  who  need  a  spiritual  heaven,  find  their 
imaginations  fettered  by  the  scientific  training  which,  imper- 
fect though  it  be,  clips  their  wings  in  all  directions,  forbids 
their  glowing  fancy,  and  annuls  that  gorgeous  creation,  and 
bars  the  way  to  each  successive  local  habitation  that  is 
instinctively  wanted  to  give  reality  to  the  ideal  they  aspire  to ; 
till,  in  the  effort  to  frame  a  future  existence  without  a  future 
world,  to  build  up  a  state  of  being  that  shall  be  worthy  of  its 
denizens,  and  from  which  everything  material  shall  be 
excluded,  they  at  last  discover  that  in  renouncing  the  "  physi- 
cal "  and  inadmissible  they  have  been  forced  to  renounce  the 
"  conceivable "  as  well ;  and  a  dimness  and  fluctuating 
uncertainty  gathers  round  a  scene,  from  which  all  that  is  con- 
crete and  definable,  and  would  therefore  be  incongruous,  has 
been  shut  out.  The  next  world  cannot,  it  is  felt,  be  a  mate- 
rial one  ;  and  a  truly  "  spiritual  "  one  even  the  saint  cannot 
conceive  so  as  to  bring  it  home  to  natures  still  shrouded  in  the 
garments  of  the  flesh. 

The  other  suggestion  that  has  occurred  to  me  is  this  : — It 
must  be  conceded  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future  life  is 
by  no  means  as  universally  diffused  as  it  is  the  habit  loosely 
to  assert.  It  is  not  always  discoverable  among  primitive  and 
savage  races.  It  existed  among  pagan  nations  in  a  form  so 
vague  and  hazy  as  to  be  describable  rather  as  a  dream  than 
a  religious  faith.  It  can  scarcely  be  determined  whether  the 
Chinese,  whose  cultivation  is  perhaps  the  most  ancient  exist- 


A  MODERN  "  SYx\fPOSmM.  "  j  09 

ing  in  the  world,  can  be  ranked  among  distinct  believers  ; 
while  the  conception  of  Nirvana,  which  prevails  in  the  medi- 
tative minds  of  other  Orientals,  is  more  a  sort  of  conscious 
non-existence  than  a  future  life.  With  the  Jews,  moreover, 
as  is  well  known,  the  belief  was  not  indigenous,  but  imijprted, 
and  by  no  means  an  early  importation.  But  what  is  not 
so  generally  recognised  is  that,  even  among  ourselves  in  these 
days,  the  conviction  of  thoughtful  natures  varies  curiously  in 
strength  and  in  features  at  different  periods  of  life.  In  youth, 
when  all  our  sentiments  are  most  vivacious  and  dogmatic, 
most  of  us  not  only  cling  to  it  as  an  intellectual  creed,  but  are 
accustomed  to  say  and  feel  that,  without  it  as  a  solace  and  a 
hope  to  rest  upon,  this  world  would  be  stripped  of  its  deepest 
fascinations.  It  is  from  minds  of  this  age,  whose  vigor  is 
unimpaired  and  whose  relish  for  the  joys  of  earth  is  most 
expansive,  that  the  most  glowing  delineations  of  heaven 
usually  proceed,  and  on  whom  the  thirst  for  felicity  and  knowl^ 
edge,  which  can  be  slaked  at  no  earthly  fountains,  has  the 
most  exciting  power.  Then  comes  the  busy  turmoil  of  our 
mid  career,  when  the  present  curtains  off  the  future  from  our 
thoughts,  and  when  a  renewed  existence  in  a  different  scene 
is  recalled  to  our  fancy  chiefly  in  crises  of  bereavement.  And 
finally,  is  it  not  the  case  that  in  our  fading  years — when  some- 
thing of  the  languor  and  placidity  of  age  is  creeping  over  us,  just 
when  futurity  is  coming  consciously  and  rapidly  more  near, 
and  when  one  might  naturally  expect  it  to  occupy  us  more 
incessantly  and  with  more  anxious  and  searching  glances — we 
think  of  it  less  frequently,  believe  in  it  less  confidently,  desire 
it  less  eagerly  than  in  our  youth  ?  Such,  at  least,  has  been  my 


no  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

observation  and  experience,  especially  among  the  more 
reflective  and  inquiring  order  of  men.  The  life  of  the  hour 
absorbs  us  most  completely,  as  the  hours  grow  fewer  and  less 
full ;  the  pleasures,  the  exemptions,  the  modest  interests,  the 
afternoon  peace,  the  gentle  affections  of  the  present  scene, 
obscure  the  future  from  our  view,  and  render  it,  curiously 
enough,  even  less  interesting  than  the  past.  To-day,  which 
may  be  our  last,  engrosses  us  far  more  than  to-morrow,  which 
may  be  our  Forever  ;  and  the  grave  into  which  we  are  just 
stepping  down  troubles  us  far  less  than  in  youth,  when  half  a 
century  lay  between  us  and  it. 

What  is  the  explanation  of  this  strange  phenomenon  ?  Is 
it  a  merciful  dispensation  arranged  by  the  Ruler  of  our  life  to 
soften  and  to  ease  a  crisis  which  would  be  too  grand  and 
awful  to  be  faced  with  dignity  or  calm,  if  it  were  actually 
realized  at  all  ?  Is  it  that  thought — or  that  vague  substitute 
for  thought  which  we  call  time — has  brought  us,  half  uncon- 
sciously, to  the  conclusion  that  the  whole  question  is  insoluble, 
and  that  reflection  is  wasted  where  reflection  can  bring  us  no 
nearer  to  an  issue  ?  Or  finally,  as  I  know  is  true  far  oftener 
than  we  fancy,  is  it  that  threescore  years  and  ten  have 
quenched  the  passionate  desire  for  life  with  which  at  first  we 
stepped  upon  the  scene?  We  are  tired,  some  of  us,  with 
unending  and  unprofitable  toil  j  we  are  satiated,  others  of  us, 
with  such  ample  pleasures  as  earth  can  yield  us ;  we  have  had 
enough  of  ambition,  alike  in  its  successes  and  failures  ;  the 
joys  and  blessings  of  human  affection  on  which,  whatever 
their  crises  and  vicissitudes,  no  righteous  or  truthful  man  will 
cast  a  slur,  are  yet  so  blended  with  pains  which  partake 


A  MODERN  ''SYMPOSIUM,"  m 

of  their  intensity ;  the  thirst  for  knowledge  is  not  slaked, 
indeed,  but  the  capacity  for  the  labor  by  which  alone  it  can  be 
gained  has  consciously  died  out ;  the  appetite  for  life,  in  short, 
is  gone,  the  frame  is  worn  and  the  faculties  exhausted ;  and — 
possibly  this  is  the  key  to  the  phenomenon  we  are  examining 
— age  CANNOT,  from  the  very  law  of  its  nature,  cojiceive  itself 
endowed  with  the  bounding  energies  of  youth,  and  without  that 
vigor  both  of  exertion  and  desire,  renewed  existence  can 
offer  no  inspiring  charms.  Our  being  upon  earth  has  been 
enriched  by  vivid  interests  and  precious  joys,  and  we  are 
deeply  grateful  for  the  gift ;  but  we  are  wearied  with  one  life, 
and  feel  scarcely  qualified  to  enter  on  the  claims,  even  though 
balanced  by  the  felicities  and  glories,  of  another.  It  may  be 
the  fatigue  which  comes  with  age — fatigue  of  the  fancy  as  well 
as  of  the  frame  ;  but  somehow,  what  we  yearn  for  most 
instinctively  at  last  is  rest,  and  the  peace  which  we  can 
imagine  the  easiest  because  we  know  it  best  is  that  of  sleep. 

KEV.  BALDWIN  BROWN. 

The  theologians  appear  to  have  fallen  upon  evil  days. 
Like  some  of  old,  they  are  filled  with  rebuke  from  all  sides. 
They  are  bidden  to  be  silent,  for  their  day  is  over.  But  some 
things,  like  Nature,  are  hard  to  get  rid  of.  Expelled,  they 
"  recur "  swiftly.  Foremost  among  these  is  theology.  It 
seems  as  if  nothing  could  long  restrain  man  from  this,  the 
loftiest  exercise  of  his  powers.  The  theologians  and  the 
Comtists  have  met  in  the  sense  which  Mr.  Huxley  justly  in- 
dicates ;  he  is  himself  working  at  the  foundations  of  a  larger, 
nobler,  and  more  complete  theology.     But  for  the  present, 


1 1 2  QUESTIOJ^S  OF  BELIEF. 

theology  suffers  affliction,  and  the  theologians  have  in  no 
small  measure  themselves  to  thank  for  it.  The  protest  rises 
from  all  sides,  clear  and  strong,  against  the  narrow,  formal, 
and,  in  these  last  days,  selfish  system  of  thought  and  expec- 
tation, which  they  have  presented  as  their  kingdom  of 
Heaven  to  the  world. 

I  never  read  Mr.  Harrison's  brilliant  essays,  full  as  they 
always  are  of  high  aspiration  and  of  stimulus  to  noble  en- 
deavor, without  finding  the  judgment  which  I  cannot  but 
pass  in  my  own  mind  on  his  unbeliefs  and  denials,  largely 
tempered  by  thankfulness.  I  rejoice  in  the  passionate  ear- 
nestness with  which  he  lifts  the  hearts  of  his  readers  to  ideals 
which  it  seems  to  me  that  Christianity — that  Christianity 
which  as  a  living  force  in  the  Apostles'  days  turned  the  world 
upside  down,  that  is,  right  side  up,  with  its  face  towards 
heaven  and  God — alone  can  realize  for  man. 

I  recall  a  noble  passage  written  by  Mr.  Harrison  some 
years  ago.  "  A  religion  of  action,  a  religion  of  social  duty, 
devotion  to  an  intelligible  and  sensible  Head,  a  real  sense  of 
incorporation  with  a  living  and  controlling  force,  the  deliber- 
ate effort  to  serve  an  immortal  Humanity — this,  and  this 
alone,  can  absorb  the  musings  and  the  cravings  of  the  spir- 
itual man."  ^  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  difficult  for 
any  one  to  set  forth  in  more  weighty  and  eloquent  words  the 
kind  of  object  which  Christianity  proposes,  and  the  kind  of 
help  towards  the  attainment  of  the  object  which  the  Incarna- 
tion affords.  And  in  the  matter  now  under  debate,  behind 
the  stern  denunciation  of  the  selfish  striving  towards  a  per- 
1  Fortnightly  Review^  vol.  xii.  p.  529. 


A  MODERN  "  S  YMPOSIUM:'  j  j  3 

sonal  immortality  which  Mr.  Harrison  utters  with  his  accus- 
tomed force,  there  seems  to  lie  not  only  a  j'earning  for,  but  a 
definite  vision  of,  an  immortality  which  shall  not  be  selfish, 
but  largely  fruitful  to  public  good.  It  is  true  that,  as  has 
been  forcibly  pointed  out,  the  form  which  it  wears  is  utterly 
vain  and  illusory,  and  wholly  incapable,  one  would  think,  of 
accounting  for  the  enthusiastic  eagerness  with  which  it  ap- 
pears to  be  sought.  May  not  the  eagerness  be  really  kindled 
by  a  larger  and  more  far-reaching  vision  —  the  Christian 
vision,  which  has  become  obscured  to  so  many  faithful  ser- 
vants of  duty  by  the  selfishness  and  vanity  with  which  much 
that  goes  by  the  name  of  the  Christian  life  in  these  days  has 
enveloped  it ;  but  which  has  not  ceased  and  will  not  cease, 
in  ways  which  even  consciousness  cannot  always  trace,  to 
cast  its  spell  on  human  hearts  ? 

Mr.  Harrison  seems  to  start  in  his  argument  with  the  con- 
viction that  there  is  a  certain  baseness  in  this  longing  for 
immortality,  and  he  falls  on  the  belief  with  a  fierceness  which 
the  sense  of  its  baseness  alone  could  justify.  But  surely  he 
must  stamp  much  more  with  the  same  brand.  Each  day's 
struggle  to  live  is  a  bit  of  the  baseness,  and  there  seems  to 
be  no  answer  to  Mr.  Hutton's  remark  that  the  truly  unselfish 
action  under  such  conditions  would  be  suicide.  But  at  any 
rate  it  is  clear  from  history  that  the  men  who  formulated  the 
doctrine  and  perfected  the  art  of  suicide  in  the  early  days  of 
Imperial  Rome,  belonged  to  the  most  basely  selfish  and 
heartless  generation  that  has  ever  cumbered  this  sorrowful 
world.     The  love  of  life  is  on  the  whole  a  noble  thing,  for 

the  staple  of  life  is  duty.     The  more  I  see  of  classes  in  which 

8 


XI4  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

at  first  sight  selfishness  seems  to  reign,  the  more  am  I  struck 
with  the  measure  in  which  duty,  thought  for  others,  and  work 
for  others,  enters  into  their  lives.  The  desire  to  live  on,  to 
those  who  catch  the  Christian  idea,  and  would  follow  Him 
who  "came,  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,"  is  a 
desire  to  work  on,  and  by  living  to  bless  more  richly  a  larger 
circle  in  a  wider  world. 

I  can  even  cherish  some  thankfulness  for  the  fling  at  the 
eternity  of  the  tabor  in  which  Mr.  Harrison  indulges,  and 
which  draws  on  him  a  rebuke  from  his  critics  the  severity  of 
which  one  can  also  well  understand.  It  is  a  last  fling  at  the 
latts  perennis,  which  once  seemed  so  beautiful  to  monastic 
hearts,  and  which,  looked  at  ideally,  to  those  who  can  enter 
into  Mr.  Hutton's  lofty  view  of  adoration,  means  all  that  he 
describes.  But  practically  it  was  a  very  poor,  narrow,-  me- 
chanical thing ;  and  base  even  when  it  represented,  as  it  did 
to  multitudes,  ihe  loftiest  form  of  a  soul's  activity  in  such  a 
sad  suffering  world  as  this.  I,  for  one,  can  understand, 
though  I  could  not  utter,  the  anathema  which  follows  it  as  it 
vanishes  from  sight.  And  it  bears  closely  on  the  matter  in 
hand.  It  is  no  dead  mediaeval  idea.  It  tinctures  strongly 
the  popular  religious  notions  of  heaven.  The  favourite 
hymns  of  the  evangelical  school  are  set  in  the  same  key. 
There  is  an  easy,  self-satisfied,  self-indulgent  temper  in  the 
popular  way  of  thinking  and  praying,  and  above  all  of  sing- 
ing, about  heaven,  which,  sternly  as  the  singers  would  de- 
nounce the  cloister,  is  really  caught  from  the  monastic  choir. 
There  is  a  very  favourite  verse  which  runs  thus  : — 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUMr  j  1 5 

There,  on  a  green  and  flowery  mount, 

Our  weary  souls  shall  sit, 
And  with  transporting  joys  recount 

The  labors  of  our  feet.  ^ 

It  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  staple  of  much  pious  forecasting  of 
the  occupations  and  enjoyments  of  heaven.  I  cannot  but 
welcome  very  heartily  any  such  shock  as  Mr.  Harrison  admin- 
isters to  this  restful  and  self-centered  vision  of  immortality. 
Should  he  find  himself  at  last  endowed  with  the  inheritance 
■which  he  refuses,  and  be  thrown  in  the  way  of  these  souls 
mooning  on  the  mount,  it  is  evident  that  he  would  feel 
tempted  to  give  them  a  vigorous  shake,  and  to  set  them  with 
some  stinging  words  about  some  good  work  for  God  and  for 
their  world.  And  as  many  of  us  want  the  shaking  now  badly 
enough,  I  can  thank  him  for  it,  although  it  is  administered  by 
an  over-rough  and  contemptuous  hand. 

I  feel  some  hearty  sympathy,  too,  with  much  which  he  says 
about  the  unity  of  the  man.  The  passage  to  which  I  refer 
commences  on  page  17  with  the  words  "The  philosophy 
which  treats  man  as  man  simply  affirms  that  man  loves,  thinks, 
acts,  not  that  the  ganglia,  the  senses,  or  any  organ  of  man, 
loves,  thinks,  and  acts." 

So  far  as  Mr.  Harrison's  language  and  line  of  thought  are 
a  protest  against  the  vague,  bloodless,  bodiless  notion  of  the 
life  of  the  future,  which  has  more  affinity  with  Hades  than 
with  Heaven,  I  heartily  thank  him  for  it.  Man  is  an  em- 
bodied spirit,  and  wherever  his  lot  is  cast  he  will  need  and 

1  Mr.  Martin's  picture  of  the  Plains  of  Heaven  exactly  presents  it,  and 
it  is  a  picture  greatly  admired  in  the  circles  of  which  we  speak. 


1 1 6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

will  have  the  means  of  a  spirit's  manifestation  to  and  action 
on  its  surrounding  world.  But  this  is  precisely  what  is  sub- 
stantiated by  the  Resurrection,  The  priceless  value  of  the 
truth  of  the  Resurrection  lies  in  the  close  interlacing  and 
interlocking  of  the  two  words  which  it  reveals.  It  is  the  life 
which  is  lived  here,  the  life  of  the  embodied  spirit,  which  is 
carried  through  the  veil  and  lived  there.  The  wonderful 
power  of  the  Gospel  of  "  Jesus  and  the  Resurrection  "  lay  in 
the  homely  human  interest  which  it  lent  to  the  life  of  the 
immortals.  The  risen  Lord  took  up  life  just  where  He  left  it. 
The  things  which  He  had  taught  His  disciples  to  care  about 
here,  were  the  things  which  those  who  had  passed  on  were 
caring  about  there,  the  reign  of  truth,  righteousness,  and  love. 
I  hold  to  the  truth  of  the  Resurrection,  not  only  because  it 
appears  to  be  firmly  established  on  the  most  valid  testimony, 
but  because  it  alone  seems  to  explain  man's  constitution  as  a 
spirit  embodied  in  flesh  which  he  is  sorely  tempted  to  curse 
as  a  clog.  It  furnishes  to  man  the  key  to  the  mystery  of  the 
flesh  on  the  one  hand,  while  on  the  other  it  justifies  his  aspi- 
ration and  realises  his  hope. 

Belief  in  the  risen  and  reigning  Christ  was  at  the  heart  of 
that  wonderful  uprising  and  outburst  of  human  energy  which 
marked  the  age  of  the  Advent.  The  contrast  is  most  strik- 
ing between  the  sad  and  even  despairing  tone  which  breathes 
through  the  noblest  heathen  literature,  which  utters  perhaps 
its  deepest  wail  in  the  cry  of  Epictetus,  **  Show  me  a  Stoic — 
by  heaven  I  long  to  see  a  Stoic,"  and  the  sense  of  victorious 
power,  of  buoyant  exulting  hope,  which  breathes  through  the 
word  and  shines  from  the  life  of  the  infant  Church.     "  As 


A  MODERN  "  SYMP  OSIUM."  j  1 7 

dying,  and  behold  we  live  ;  as  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing ; 
as  poor,  yet  making  many  rich ;  as  having  nothing,  and  yet 
possessing  all  things."  The  Gospel  which  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light  won  its  way  just  as  dawn  wins  its  way, 
when  "jocund  day  stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops," 
and  flashes  his  rays  over  a  sleeping  world.  Everywhere  the 
radiance  penetrates  ;  it  shines  into  every  nook  of  shade  ;  and 
all  living  creatures  stir,  awake,  and  come  forth  to  bask  in  its 
beams.  Just  thus  the  flood  of  kindling  light  streamed  forth 
from  the  Resurrection,  and  spread  like  the  dawn  in  the  morn- 
ing sky ;  it  touched  all  forms  of  things  in  a  dark,  sad  world 
with  its  splendour,  and  called  man  forth  from  the  tomb  in 
which  his  higher  life  seemed  to  be  buried,  to  a  new  career  of 
fruitful,  sunlit  activity ;  even  as  the  Saviour  prophesied,  "  The 
hour  is  coming,  and  now  is,  when  the  dead  shall  hear  the 
voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  they  that  hear  shall  live." 

The  exceeding  readiness  and  joyfulness  with  which  the 
truth  was  welcomed,  and  the  measure  in  which  Christendom — 
and  that  means  all  that  is  most  powerful  and  progressive  in 
human  society — ^hasbeen  moulded  by  it,  are  the  most  notable 
facts  of  history.  Be  it  truth,  be  it  fiction,  be  it  dream,  one 
thing  is  clear  :  it  was  a  baptism  of  new  life  to  the  world 
which  was  touched  by  it,  and  it  has  been  near  the  heart  of  all 
the  great  movements  of  human  society  from  that  day  until 
now.  I  do  not  even  exclude  "  the  Revolution,"  whose  cur- 
rent is  under  us  still.  Space  is  precious,  or  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  show  how  deeply  the  Revolution  was  indebted  to 
the  ideas  which  this  gospel  brought  into  the  world.  I  entirely 
agree  with  Lord  Blachford  that  Revelation  is  the  ground  on 


%t$  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Mhich  faith  securely  rests.  But  the  history  of  the  quickening 
and  the  growth  of  Christian  society  is  a  factor  of  enormous 
moment  in  the  estimation  of  the  arguments  for  the  truth  of 
immortality.  We  are  assured  that  the  idea  had  the  dullest 
and  even  basest  origin.  Man  has  a  shadow,  it  suggested  the 
idea  of  a  second  self  to  him !  he  has  memories  of  departed 
friends,  he  gave  them  a  body  and  made  them  ghosts  !  Very 
wonderful  surely,  that  mere  figments  should  be  the  strongest 
and  most  productive  things  in  the  whole  sphere  of  human 
activity,  and  should  have  stirred  the  spirit  and  led  the  march 
of  the  strongest,  noblest,  and  most  cultivated  peoples  ;  until 
now,  in  this  nineteenth  century,  we  think  that  we  have  dis- 
covered, as  Miss  Martineau  tersely  puts  it,  that  "  the  theolog- 
ical belief  of  almost  everybody  in  the  civilired  world  is  base- 
less."    Let  who  will  believe  it,  I  cannot. 

It  may  be  urged  that  the  idea  has  strong  fascination,  that 
tnan  naturally  longs  for  immortality,  and  gladly  catches  at 
any  figment  which  seems  to  respond  to  his  yearning  and  to 
justify  his  hope.  But  this  belief  is  among  the  clearest, 
broadest,  and  strongest  features  of  his  experience  and  his- 
tory. It  must  flow  out  of  something  very  deeply  embedded 
in  his  constitution.  If  the  force  that  is  behind  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  life  is  responsible  for  all  that  is,  it  must  be  respon- 
sible for  this  also.  Somehow  man,  the  masterpiece  of 
Creation,  has  got  himself  wedded  to  the  belief  that  all  things 
here  have  relations  to  issues  which  lie  in  a  world  that  is 
behind  the  shadow  of  death.  This  belief  has  been  at  the 
root  of  his  highest  endeavor  and  of  his  keenest  pain ;  it  is 
the  secret  of  his  chronic  unrest.     Now  Nature  through  all 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  i  i  g 

her  orders  appears  to  have  made  all  creatures  contented 
with  the  conditions  of  their  life.  The  brute  seems  fully 
satisfied  with  the  resources  of  his  world.  He  shows  no  sign 
of  being  tormented  by  dreams  ;  his  life  withers  under  no 
blight  of  regret.  All  things  rest,  and  are  glad  and  beautiful 
in  their  spheres.  Violate  the  order  of  their  nature,  rob  them 
of  their  fit  surroundings,  and  they  grow  restless,  sad,  and 
poor.  A  plant  shut  out  from  light  and  moisture  will  twist 
itself  into  the  most  fantastic  shapes,  and  strain  itself  to 
ghastly  tenuity  ;  nay,  it  will  work  its  delicate  tissues  through 
stone  walls  or  hard  rock,  to  find  what  its  nature  has  made 
needful  to  its  life.  Having  found  it,  it  rests  and  is  glad  in 
its  beauty  once  more.  Living  things,  perverted  by  human 
intelligent  effort,  revert  swiftly  the  moment  that  the  pressure 
is  removed.  This  marked  tendency  to  reversion  seems  to 
be  set  in  Nature  as  a  sign  that  all  things  are  at  rest  in  their 
natural  conditions,  content  with  their  life  and  its  sphere. 
Only  in  ways  of  which  they  are  wholly  unconscious,  and 
which  rob  them  of  no  contentment  with  their  present,  do 
they  prepare  the  way  for  the  higher  developments  of  life. 

What  then  means  this  restless  longing  in  man  for  that 
which  lies  beyond  the  range  of  his  visible  world  ?  Has 
Nature  wantonly  and  cruelly  made  man,  her  masterpiece, 
alone  of  all  the  creatures  restless  and  sad  ?  Of  all  beings 
in  the  Creation  must  he  alone  be  made  wretched  by  an 
unattainable  longing,  by  futile  dreams  of  a  visionary  world  ? 
This  were  an  utter  breach  of  the  method  of  Nature  in  all  her 
operations.  It  is  impossible  to  believe  that  the  harmony  that 
runs  through  all  her  spheres  fails  and  falls  into  discord  in 


120  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

man.  The  very  order  of  Nature  presses  us  to  the  conviction 
that  this  insatiable  longing  which  somehow  she  generates 
and  sustains  in  man,  and  which  is  unquestionably  the  largest 
feature  of  his  life,  is  not  visionary  and  futile,  but  profoundly 
significant ;  pointing  with  firm  finger  to  the  reality  of  that 
sphere  of  being  to  which  she  has  taught  him  to  lift  his 
thoughts  and  aspirations,  and  in  which  he  will  find,  unless 
the  prophetic  order  of  the  Creation  has  lied  to  him,  the  har- 
monious completeness  of  his  life. 

And  there  seems  to  be  no  fair  escape  from  the  conclusion 
by  giving  up  the  order,  and  writing  Babel  on  the  world  and 
its  life.  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  not  confusion.  Out  of  its  dis- 
order, order  palpably  grows  ;  out  of  its  confusion  arises  a 
grand  and  stately  progress.  Progress  is  a  sacred  word  with 
Mr.  Harrison.  In  the  progress  of  humanity  he  finds  his 
longed-for  immortality.  But,  if  I  may  repeat  in  other  terms 
a  remark  which  I  offered  in  the  first  number  of  this  Review, 
while  progress  is  the  human  law,  the  world,  the  sphere  of  the 
progress,  is  tending  slowly  but  inevitably  to  dissolution.  Is 
there  discord  again  in  this  highest  region  .?  Mr.  Harrison 
writes  of  an  immortal  humanity.  How  immortal,  if  the 
glorious  progress  is  striving  to  accomplish  itself  in  a  world 
of  wreck  ?  Or  is  the  progress  that  of  a  race  born  with  a  sore 
but  joyful  travail  from  the  highest  level  of  the  material  crea- 
tion into  a  higher  region  of  being,  whence  it  can  watch  with 
calmness  the  dissolution  of  all  the  perishable  worlds  ? 

The  belief  in  immortality  is  so  dear  to  man  because  he 
grasps  through  it  the  complement  of  his  else  unshaped  and 
imperfect  life.     It  seems  to  be  equally  the  complement  of 


A  MODERN ''SYMPOSIUM."  iji 

this  otherwise  hopelessly  jangled  and  disordered  world.  It 
is  asked  triumphantly  :  Why  of  all  the  hosts  of  creatures 
does  man  alone  lay  claim  to  this  great  inheritance  ?  Because 
in  man  alone  we  see  the  experiences,  the  strain,  the  anguish, 
that  demand  it,  as  the  sole  key  to  what  he  does  and  endures. 
There  is  to  me  something  horrible  in  the  thought  of  such  a 
life  as  ours,  in  which  for  all  of  us,  in  some  form  or  other,  the 
Cross  must  be  the  most  sacred  symbol,  lived  out  in  that  bare, 
heartless,  hopeless  world  of  the  material,  to  which  Professor 
Clifford  so  lightly  limits  it.  And  I  cannot  but  think  that 
there  are  strong  signs  in  many  quarters  of  an  almost  fierce 
revulsion  from  the  ghastly  drearihood  of  such  a  vision  of 
life. 

There  seems  to  me  to  run  through  Mr.  Harrison's  utter- 
ances on  these  great  subjects — I  say  it  with  honest  diffidence 
of  one  whose  large  range  of  power  I  so  fully  recognize,  but 
one  must  speak  frankly  if  this  Symposium  is  to  be  worth 
anything — an  instinctive  yearning  towards  Christian  ideas, 
while  that  faith  is  denied  which  alone  can  vivify  them  and 
make  them  a  living  power  in  our  world.  There  is  everywhere 
a  shadowy  image  of  a  Christian  substance  j  but  it  reminds 
one  of  that  formless  form,  wherein  "  what  seemed  a  head,  the 
likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  on."  And  it  is  characteristic 
of  much  of  the  finest  thinking  and  writing  of  our  times.  The 
saviour  Deronda,  the  prophet  Mordecai,  lack  just  that  living 
heart  of  faith  which  would  put  blood  into  their  pallid  linea- 
ments, and  make  them  breathe  and  move  among  men.  Again 
I  say  that  we  have  largely  ourselves  to  thank  for  this  sadden- 
ing feature  of  the  higher  life  of  our  times — we  who  have  nar- 


122  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

rowed  God's  great  kingdom  to  the  dimensions  of  our  little 
theological  sphere.  I  am  no  theologian,  though  intensely  in- 
terested in  the  themes  with  which  the  theologians  occupy 
themselves.  Urania,  with  darkened  brow,  may  perhaps  re- 
buke my  prating.  But  I  seem  to  see  quite  clearly  that  the  sad 
strain  and  anguish  of  our  life,  social,  intellectual,  and  spiritual, 
is  but  the  pain  by  which  great  stages  of  growth  accomplish 
themselves.  We  have  quite  outgrown  our  venerable,  and  in  its 
time  large  and  noble,  theological  shell.  We  must  wait,  not  fear- 
ful, far  less  hopeless,  while  by  the  help  of  those  who  are  work- 
ing with  such  admirable  energy,  courage,  and  fidelity,  outside 
the  visible  Christian  sphere,  that  spirit  in  man  which  searches 
and  cannot  but  search  "  the  deep  things  of  God,"  creates  for 
itself  a  new  instrument  of  thought  which  will  give  to  it  the 
mastery  of  a  wider,  richer,  and  nobler  world. 

DR.   W.  G.   WARD. 

Mr.  Harrison  considers  that  the  Christian's  conception  of 
a  future  life  is  "  so  gross,  so  sensual,  so  indolent,  so  selfish," 
as  to  be  unworthy  of  respectful  consideration.  He  must  ne- 
cessarily be  intending  to  speak  of  this  conception  in  the  shape 
in  which  we  Christians  entertain  it ;  because  otherwise  his 
words  of  reprehension  are  unmeaning.  But  our  belief  as  to 
the  future  life  is  intimately  and  indissolubly  bound  up  with 
our  belief  as  to  the  present ;  with  our  belief  as  to  what  is  the 
true  measure  and  standard  of  human  action  in  this  world. 
And  I  would  urge  that  no  part  of  our  doctrine  can  be  rightly 
apprehended,  unless  it  be  viewed  in  its  connection  with  all 
the  rest.    This  is  a  fact  which  (I  think)  infidels  often  drop 


A  MODERN '' symposium:  J25 

out  of  sight,  and  for  that  reason  fail  of  meeting  Christianity 
on  its  really  relevant  and  critical  issues. 

Of  course  I  consider  Catholicity  to  be  exclusively  the  one 
authoritative  exhibition  of  revealed  Christianity.  I  will  set 
forth  therefore  the  doctrine  to  which  I  would  call  attention, 
in  that  particular  form  in  which  Catholic  teachers  enounce  it ; 
though  I  am  very  far  indeed  from  intending  to  deny,  that 
there  are  multitudes  of  non-Catholic  Christians  who  hold  it 
also.  What  then,  according  to  Catholics,  is  the  true  measure 
and  standard  of  human  action  ?  This  is  in  effect  the  very  first 
question  propounded  in  our  English  elementary  Catechism. 
"  Why  did  God  make  you  ?  "  The  prescribed  answer  is,  "  To 
know  Him,  serve  Him,  and  love  Him  in  this  world,  and  ta 
be  happy  with  Him  for  ever  in  the  next."  And  St.  Ignatius's 
Spiritual  Exercises — a  work  of  the  very  highest  authority 
among  us —  having  laid  down  the  very  same  "  foundation," 
presently  adds,  that  "  we  should  not  wish  on  our  part  for 
health  rather  than  for  sickness,  wealth  rather  than  poverty, 
honor  rather  than  ignominy ;  desiring  and  choosing  those 
things  alone,  which  are  more  expedient  to  us  for  the  end  for 
which  we  were  created."  Now  what  will  be  the  course  of  a 
Christian's  life  in  proportion  as  he  is  profoundly  imbued  with 
such  a  principle  as  this,  and  vigorously  aims  at  putting  it  into 
practice  ?  The  number  of  believers,  who  apply  themselves  to 
this  task  with  reasonable  consistency,  is  no  doubt  compara- 
tively small.  But  in  proportion  as  any  given  person  does  so, 
he  will  in  the  first  place  be  deeply  penetrated  with  a  sense  of 
his  moral  weakness  ;  and  (were  it  for  that  reason  alone)  his 
life  will  more  and  more  be  a  life  of  prayer.    Then  he  will  ne- 


124  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

cessarily  give  his  mind  with  great  earnestness  and  frequency 
to  the  consideration,  what  it  is  which  at  this  or  that  period 
God  desires  at  his  hands.  On  the  whole  (not  to  dwell  with 
unnecessary  detail  on  this  part  of  my  subject)  he  will  be  ever 
opening  his  heart  to  Almighty  God  ;  turning  to  Him  for  light 
and  strength  under  emergencies,  for  comfort  under  affliction  ; 
pondering  on  His  adorable  attributes ;  animated  towards  Him 
by  intense  love  and  tenderness.  Nor  need  I  add  how  singu- 
larly— how  beyond  words — this  personal  love  of  God  is  pro- 
moted and  facilitated  by  the  fact,  that  a  Divine  Person  has 
assumed  human  nature,  and  that  God's  human  acts  and 
words  are  so  largely  offered  to  the  loving  contemplation  of 
redeemed  souls. 

In  proportion  then  as  a  Christian  is  faithful  to  his  creed, 
the  thought  of  God  becomes  the  chief  joy  of  his  life.  "  The 
thought  of  God,"  says  F.  Newman,  "and  nothing  short  of  it, 
is  the  happiness  of  man  ;  for  though  there  is  much  besides  to 
serve  as  subjects  of  knowledge,  or  motive  for  action,  or  instru- 
ment of  excitement,  yet  the  affections  require  a  something 
more  vast  and  more  enduring  than  anything  created.  He 
alone  is  sufficient  for  the  heart  who  made  it.  The  contem- 
plation of  Him,  and  nothing  but  it,  is  able  fully  to  open  and 
relieve  the  mind,  to  unlock,  occupy,  and  fix  our  affections. 
We  may  indeed  love  things  created  with  great  intenseness; 
but  such  affection,  when  disjoined  from  the  love  of  the  Creator, 
is  like  a  stream  running  in  a  narrow  channel,  impetuous,  ve- 
hement, turbid.  The  heart  runs  out,  as  it  were,  only  at  one 
door  ;  it  is  not  an  expanding  of  the  whole  man.  Created  na- 
tures cannot  open  to  us,  or  elicit,  the  ten  thousand  mental 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  ^a- 

senses  which  belong  to  us,  and  through  which  we  really  love. 
None  but  the  presence  of  our  Maker  can  enter  us  ;  for  to  none 
besides  can  the  whole  heart  in  all  its  thoughts  and  feelings 
be  unlocked  and  subjected.  It  is  this  feeling  of  simple  and 
absolute  confidence  and  communion,  which  soothes  and  satis- 
fies those  to  whom  it  is  vouchsafed.  We  know  that  even  our 
nearest  friends  enter  into  us  but  partially,  and  hold  intercourse 
with  us  only  at  times  ;  whereas  the  consciousness  of  a  perfect 
and  enduring  presence,  and  it  alone,  keeps  the  heart  open. 
Withdraw  the  object  on  which  it  rests,  and.  it  will  relapse 
again  into  its  state  of  confinement  and  constraint ;  and  in 
proportion  as  it  is  limited,  either  to  certain  seasons  or 
to  certain  affections,  the  heart  is  straitened  and  distressed." 

Now  Christians  hold,  that  God's  faithful  servants  will  en- 
joy hereafter  unspeakable  bliss,  through  the  most  intimate 
imaginable  contact  with  Him  whom  they  have  here  so  tender- 
ly loved.  They  will  see  face  to  face  Him,  whose  beauty  is 
dimly  and  faintly  adumbrated  by  the  most  exquisitely  trans- 
porting beauty  which  can  be  found  on  earth ;  Him  whose 
adorable  perfections  they  have  in  this  life  imperfectly  contem" 
plated,  and  for  the  fuller  apprehension  of  which  they  have  so 
earnestly  longed  here  below.  I  by  no  means  intend  to  imply, 
that  the  hope  of  this  blessedness  is  the  sole  or  even  the  chief 
inducement  which  leads  saintly  men  to  be  diligent  in  serving 
God.  Their  immediate  reason  for  doing  so  is  their  keen 
sense  of  His  claim  on  their  allegiance  ;  and,  again,  the  misery 
which  they  would  experience,  through  their  love  of  Him,  at 
being  guilty  of  any  failure  in  that  allegiance.  Still  the  pros- 
pect of  that  future  bliss,  which  I  have  so  imperfectly  sketched, 


ii$  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

is  doubtless  found  by  them  at  times  of  invaluable  service,  in 
stimulating  them  to  greater  effort,  and  in  cheering  them  un- 
der trial  and  desolation. 

Such  is  the  view  taken  by  Christians  of  life  in  heaven  ; 
and  surely  any  candid  infidel  will  at  once  admit,  that  it  is 
profoundly  harmonious  and  consistent  with  their  view  of  what 
should  be  man's  life  on  earth.  To  say  that  their  anticipation 
of  the  future,  as  it  exists  in  them,  is  gross,  sensual,  indolent,  and 
selfish,  is  so  manifestly  beyond  the  mark,  that  I  am  sure  Mr» 
Harrison  will,  on  reflection,  retract  his  affirmation.  Apart, 
however,  from  this  particular  comment,  my  criticism  of  Mr. 
Harrison  would  be  this.  He  was  bound,  I  maintain,  to  con- 
sider the  Christian  theory  of  life  as  a  whole  ;  and  not  to  disso- 
ciate that  part  of  it  which  concerns  eternity,  from  that  part  of 
it  which  concerns  time. 

And  now  as  to  the  merits  of  this  Christian  theory.  For 
my  own  part  I  am,  of  course,  profoundly  convinced  that,  as 
on  the  one  hand  it  is  guaranteed  by  Revelation,  so  on  the  other 
hand  it  is  that  which  alone  harmonizes  with  the  dicta  of  rea- 
son and  the  facts  of  experience,  so  far  as  it  comes  into  con- 
tact with  these.  Yet  I  admit  that  various  very  plausible  ob- 
jections may  be  adduced  against  its  truth.  Objectors  may 
allege  very  plausibly,  that  by  the  mass  of  men  it  cannot  be 
carried  into  practice  ;  that  it  disparages  most  unduly  the  im- 
portance of  things  secular ;  that  it  is  fatal  to  what  they  ac- 
count genuine  patriotism  ;  that  it  has  always  been,  and  will 
always  be,  injurious  to  the  progress  of  science ;  above  all, 
that  it  puts  men  (as  one  may  express  it)  on  an  entirely  wrong 
scent,  and  leads  them  to  neglect  many  pursuits  which,  as  be- 


I 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  ja)^ 

ing  sources  of  true  enjoyment,  would  largely  enhance  the  plea- 
surableness  of  life.  All  this,  and  much  more,  may  be  urged, 
I  think,  by  antitheists  with  very  great  superficial  plausibility; 
and  the  Christian  controversialist  is  bound  on  occasion 
steadily  to  confront  it.  But  there  is  one  accusation  which 
has  been  brought  against  this  Christian  theory  of  life — and 
that  the  one  mainly  (as  would  seem)  felt  by  Mr.  Harrison — 
which  to  me  seems  so  obviously  destitute  of  foundation,  that 
I  find  difficulty  in  understanding  how  any  infidel  can  have 
persuaded  himself  of  its  truth :  I  mean  the  accusation  that  this 
theory  is  a  selfish  one.  There  is  no  need  of  here  attempting 
a  philosophical  discussion  on  the  respective  claims  of  what 
are  now  called  "  egoism  "  and  "  altruism  :  "  a  discussion  in 
itself  (no  doubt)  one  of  much  interest  and  much  importance, 
and  one  moreover  in  which  I  should  be  quite  prepared  (were 
it  necessary)  to  engage.  Here,  however,  I  will  appeal,  not 
to  philosophy  but  to  history.  In  the  records  of  the  past  we 
find  a  certain  series  of  men,  who  stand  out  from  the  mass  of 
their  brethren,  as  having  pre-eminently  concentrated  their 
energy  on  the  love  and  service  of  God,  and  pre-eminently 
looked  away  from  earthly  hopes  to  the  prospect  of  their  future 
reward.  I  refer  to  the  Saints  of  the  Church.  And  it  is  a 
plain  matter  of  fact,  which  no  one  will  attempt  to  deny,  that 
these  very  men  stand  out  no  less  conspicuously  from  the  rest 
in  their  self-sacrificing  and  (as  we  ordinary  men  regard  it) 
astounding  labours,  in  behalf  of  what  they  believed  to  be  the 
highest  interests  of  mankind. 

Before  I  conclude  I  must  not  omit  a  brief  comment  on 
one  other  point,  because  it  is  the  only  one  on  which  I  cannot 


iiS  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

concur  with  Lord  Blachford's  masterly  paper.  I  cannot  agree 
with  him,  that  the  doctrine  of  human  immortality  fails  of  be- 
ing supported  by  "  conclusive  reasoning."  I  do  not,  of  course, 
mean  that  the  dogma  of  the  Beatific  Vision  is  discoverable 
apart  from  Revelation  ;  but  I  do  account  it  a  truth  cognizable 
with  Certitude  by  reason,  that  the  human  soul  is  naturally 
immortal,  and  that  retribution  of  one  kind  or  another  will  be 
awarded  us  hereafter,  according  to  what  our  conduct  has  been 
in  this  our  state  of  probation.  Here,  however,  I  must  explain 
myself.  When  theists  make  this  statement,  sometimes  they 
are  thought  to  allege  that  human  immortality  is  sufficiently 
proved  by  phenomena;  and  sometimes  they  are  thought  to 
allege  that  it  is  almost  intuitively  evident.  For  myself,  how- 
ever, I  make  neither  of  these  allegations.  I  hold  that  the 
truth  in  question  is  conclusively  established  by  help  of  certain 
premisses ;  and  that  these  premisses  themselves  can  previ- 
ously be  known  with  absolute  certitude,  on  grounds  of  reason 
or  experience. 

They  are  such  as  these :  (i)  There  exists  that  Personal 
Being,  infinite  in  all  perfections,  whom  we  call  God.  (2) 
He  has  implanted  in  His  rational  creatures  the  sense  of  right 
and  wrong ;  the  knowledge  that  a  deliberate  perpetration  of 
certain  acts  intrinsically  merits  penal  retribution.  (3)  Cor- 
relatively.  He  has  conferred  freedom  on  the  human  will ;  or, 
in  other  words,  has  made  acts  of  the  human  will  exceptions  to 
that  law  of  uniform  sequence,  which  otherwise  prevails  through- 
out the  phenomenal  world.*     (4)   By  the  habit  of  prayer  to  God 

^  I  shall  not,  of  course,  be  understood  to  deny  the  existence  and  fre- 
quency of  miracles. 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  '12^ 

we  obtain  augmented  strength  for  moral  action,  in  a  degree 
which  would  have  been  quite  incredible  antecedently  to  ex- 
perience. (5)  Various  portions  of  our  divinely  given  nature 
clearly  point  to  an  eternal  destiny.  (6)  The  conscious  self 
or  ego  is  entirely  heterogeneous  to  the  material  world  :  entirely 
heterogeneous,  therefore,  to  that  palpable  body  of  ours,  which 
is  dissolved  at  the  period  of  death. 

I  do  not  think  any  one  will  account  it  extravagant  to  hold, 
that  the  doctrine  of  human  immortality  is  legitimately  deduci- 
ble  from  a  combination  of  these  and  similar  truths.  The 
antitheist  will  of  course  deny  that  they  are  truths.  Mr.  Greg, 
who  has  himself  "  arrived  at  no  conviction  "  on  the  subject  of 
immortalit}',  yet  says  that  considerations  of  the  same  kind  as 
those  which  I  have  enumerated  "  must  be  decisive  "  in  favor 
of  immortality  "to  all  to  whose  spirits  communion  with  their 
Father  is  the  most  absolute  of  verities."  Nor  have  I  any  reason 
to  think  that  even  Mr.  Huxley  and  Mr.  Harrison,  if  they  could 
concede  my  premisses,  would  demur  to  my  conclusion. 

MR.  FREDERIC  HARRISON. 

[I  have  now,  not  so  much  to  close  a  symposium,  or  general 
discussion,  as  to  reply  to  the  convergent  fire  of  nine  separate 
papers,  extending  over  more  than  fifty  pages.'  Neither  time, 
nor  space,  nor  the  indulgence  of  the  reader,  would  enable  me 
to  do  justice  to  the  weight  of  this  array  of  criticism,  which 
reaches  me  in  fragments  whilst  I  am  otherwise  occupied 
abroad.  I  will  ask  those  critics,  whom  I  have  not  been  able 
to  notice,  to  believe  that  I  have  duly  considered  the  powerful 

^  See  his  letter  in  the  Spectator  of  August  25. 
9 


130  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

appeals  they  have  addressed  to  me.  And  I  will  ask  those  who 
are  interested  in  this  question,  to  refer  to  the  original  papers 
in  which  my  views  were  stated.  And  I  will  only  add,  byway 
of  reply,  the  following  remarks  which  were,  for  the  most  part, 
written  and  printed,  whilst  I  had  nothing  before  me  but  the 
first  three  papers  in  this  discussion.  They  contain  what  I 
have  to  say  on  the  theological,  the  metaphysical,  and  the 
materialist  aspect  of  this  question.  For  the  rest,  I  could  only 
repeat  what  I  have  already  said  in  the  two  original  essays.] 

Whether  the  preceding  discussion  has  given  much  new 
strength  to  the  doctrine  of  man's  immaterial  Soul  and  Future 
existence  I  will  not  pretend  to  decide.  But  I  cannot  feel  that 
it  has  shaken  the  reality  of  man's  posthumous  influence,  my 
chief  and  immediate  theme.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  time 
had  come,  when,  seeing  how  vague  and  hesitating  were  the 
prevalent  beliefs  on  this  subject,  it  was  most  important  to  re- 
member that,  from  a  purely  earthly  point  of  view,  a  man  had 
a  spiritual  nature,  and  could  look  forward  after  death  to  some- 
thing that  marked  him  off  from  the  beasts  that  perish.  I  can- 
not see  that  what  I  urged  has  been  in  substance  displaced  j 
though  much  criticism  (and  some  of  it  of  a  verbal  kind)  has 
been  directed  at  the  language  which  I  used  of  others.  My 
object  was  to  try  if  this  life  could  not  be  made  richer ;  not  to 
destroy  the  dreams  of  another.  But  has  the  old  doctrine  of  a 
future  life  been  in  any  way  strengthened  ?  Mr.  Hutton,  it  is 
true,  has  a  "personal  wish"  for  a  perpetuity  of  volition.  Lord 
Blachford  "believes  because  he  is  told."  And  Professor 
Huxley  knows  of  no  evidence  that  "  such  a  soul  and  a  future 
life  exist ; "  and  he  seems  not  to  believe  in  them  at  all. 


A  MODERN '' symposium:'  131 

Philosophical  discussion  must  languish  a  little,  if,  when 
we  ask  for  the  philosophical  grounds  for  a  certain  belief,  we 
find  one  philosopher  believing  because  he  has  a  "  personal 
wish  "  for  it,  and  another  "  believing  because  he  is  told."  Mr. 
Hutton  says  that,  as  far  as  he  knows,  "the  thoughts,  affec- 
tions, and  volitions  are  not  likely  to  perish  with  his  body." 
Professor  Huxley  seems  to  think  it  just  as  likely  that  they 
should.  Arguments  are  called  for  to  enable  us  to  decide  be- 
tween these  two  authorities.  And  the  only  argument  we  have 
hitherto  got  is  Mr.  Hutton's  "  personal  wish,"  and  Lord 
Blachford's  ita  scriptum  est.  I  confess  myself  unable  to  con- 
tinue an  argument  which  nms  into  believing  "because  I  am 
told."  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  lazzarone  at  Naples  be- 
lieves in  the  blood  of  St.  Januarius. 

My  original  propositions  may  be  stated  thus. 

1.  Philosophy  as  a  whole  (I  do  not  say  specially  bio- 
logical science)  has  established  a  functional  relation  to  exist 
between  every  fact  of  thinking,  willing,  or  feeling,  on  the  one 
side,  and  some  molecular  change  in  the  body  on  the  other 
side. 

2.  This  relation  is  simply  one  of  correspondence  between 
moral  and  physical  facts,  not  of  assimilation.  The  moral  fact 
does  not  become  a  physical  fact,  is  not  adequately  explained 
by  it,  and  must  be  mainly  studied  as  a  moral  fact,  by  methods 
applicable  to  morals — not  as  a  physical  fact,  by  methods  ap- 
plicable to  physics. 

3.  The  moral  facts  of  human  life,  the  laws  of  man's  men- 
tal, moral,  and  affective  nature,  must  consequently  be  studied, 
as  they  have  always  been  studied,  by  direct  obser\'ation  of 


132  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

these  facts  ;  yet  the  correspondences,  specially  discovered  by 
biological  science  between  man's  mind  and  his  body,  must  al- 
ways be  kept  in  view.  They  are  an  indispensable,  insepara- 
ble, but  subordinate  part  of  moral  philosophy. 

4.  We  do  not  diminish  the  supreme  place  of  the  spiritual 
facts  in  life  and  in  philosophy  by  admitting  these  spiritual 
facts  to  have  a  relation  with  molecular  and  organic  facts  in 
the  human  organism — provided  that  we  never  forget  how 
small  and  dependent  is  the  part  which  the  study  of  the  mole- 
cular and  organic  phenomena  must  play  in  moral  and  social 
science. 

5.  Those  whose  minds  have  been  trained  in  the  modern 
philosophy  of  law  cannot  understand  what  is  meant  by  sensa- 
tion, thought,  and  energy,  existing  without  any  basis  of  mole- 
cular change  ;  and  to  talk  to  them  of  sensation,  thought,  and 
energy,  continuing  in  the  absence  of  any  molecules  whatever, 
is  precisely  such  a  contradiction  in  terms  as  to  suppose  that 
civilization  will  continue  in  the  absence  of  any  men  whatever. 

6.  Yet  man  is  so  constituted  as  a  social  being,  that  the 
energies  which  he  puts  out  in  life  mould  the  minds,  charac- 
ters, and  habits  of  his  fellow-men  ;  so  that  each  man's  life  is, 
in  effect,  indefinitely  prolonged  in  human  society.  This  is  a 
phenomenon  quite  peculiar  to  man  and  to  human  society,  and 
of  course  depends  on  there  being  men  in  active  association 
with  each  other.  Physics  and  biology  can  teach  us  nothing 
about  it ;  and  physicists  and  biologists  may  very  easily  forget 
its  importance.  It  can  be  learnt  only  by  long  and  refined  ob- 
servations in  moral  and  mental  philosophy  as  a  whole,  and  in 
the  history  of  civilization  as  a  whole. 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM."  133 

7.  Lastly,  as  a  corollary,  it  may  be  useful  to  retain  the 
words  Soul  and  Future  Life  for  their  associations  ;  provided 
we  make  it  clear  that  we  mean  by  Soul  the  combined  faculties 
of  the  living  organism,  and  by  future  life  the  subjective  effect 
of  each  man's  objective  life  on  the  actual  lives  of  his  fellow- 
men. 

I.  Now  I  find  in  Mr.  Hutton's  paper  hardly  any  attempt 
to  disprove  the  first  six  of  these  propositions.  He  is  employed 
for  the  most  part  in  asserting  that  his  hypothesis  of  a  future 
state  is  a  more  agreeable  one  than  mine,  and  in  earnest  com- 
plaints that  I  should  call  his  yiew  of  a  future  state  a  selfish 
or  personal  hope.  As  to  the  first,  I  will  only  remark  that  it 
is  scarcely  a  question  whether  his  notion  of  immortality  is 
beautiful  or  not,  but  whether  it  is  true.  If  there  is  no  rational 
ground  for  expecting  such  immortality  to  be  a  solid  fact,  it  is 
to  little  purpose  to  show  us  what  a  sublime  idea  it  would  be 
if  there  were  anything  in  it.  As  to  the  second,  I  will  only 
say  that  I  do  not  call  his  notion  of  a  future  existence  a  selfish 
or  personal  hope.  In  the  last  paragraph  of  my  second  paper 
I  speak  with  respect  of  the  opinion  of  those  who  look  forward 
to  a  future  of  moral  development  instead  of  to  an  idle  eter- 
nity of  psalm-singing.  My  language  as  to  the  selfishness  of  the 
vulgar  ideas  of  salvation  was  directed  to  those  who  insist  that 
unless  they  are  to  feel  a  continuance  of  pleasure  they  do  not 
care  for  any  continuance  of  their  influence  at  all.  The  vulgar 
are  apt  to  say  that  what  they  desire  is  the  sense  of  personal 
satisfaction,  and  if  they  cannot  have  this  they  care  for  nothing 
else.  This,  I  maintain,  is  a  selfish  and  debasing  idea.  It  is 
the  common  notion  of  the  popular  religion,  and  its  tendency 


134  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

to  concentrate  the  mind  on  a  merely  personal  salvation  does 
exert  an  evil  effect  on  practical  conduct.  I  once  heard  a 
Scotch  preacher  dilating  on  the  narrowness  of  the  gate,  &c., 
exclaim,  "  O  dear  brethren,  who  would  care  to  be  saved  in  a 
crowd  V 

I  do  not  say  this  of  the  life  of  grander  activity  in  which 
Mr.  Hutton  believes,  and  which  Lord  Blachford  so  eloquent- 
ly describes.  This  is  no  doubt,  a  fine  ideal,  and  I  will  not 
say  other  than  an  elevating  hope.  But  on  what  does  it  rest  ? 
Why  this  ideal  rather  than  any  other?  Each  of  us  may  im- 
agine, as  I  said  at  the  outset,,  his  own  Elysian  fields,  or  his 
own  mystic  rose.  But  is  this  philosophy  ?  Is  it  even  relig- 
ion ?  Besides,  there  is  this  other  objection  to  it.  It  is  not 
Christianit)',  but  Neo-Christianity.  It  is  a  fantasia  with  varia- 
tions on  the  orthodox  creed.  There  is  not  a  word  of  the 
kind  in  the  Bible.  Lord  Blachford  says  he  believes  in  it, 
"  because  he  is  told."  But  it  so  happens  that  he  is  not  told 
this,  at  any  rate  in  the  creeds  and  formularies  of  orthodox 
faith.  If  this  view  of  future  life  is  to  rest  entirely  on  revela- 
tion, it  is  a  very  singular  thing  that  the  Bible  is  silent  on  the 
matter.  Whatever  kind  of  future  ecstasy  may  be  suggested 
in  some  texts,  certain  it  is  that  such  a  glorified  energy  as 
Lord  Blachford  paints  in  glowing  colours  is  nowhere  described 
in  the  Bible.  There  is  a  constant  practice  nowadays,  when 
the  popular  religion  is  criticised,  that  earnest  defenders  of  it 
come  forward  exclaiming :  "  Oh !  that  is  only  the  vulgar 
notion  of  our  religion.  My  idea  of  the  doctrine  is  so  and  so," 
something  which  the  speaker  has  invented  without  counte- 
nance from  official  authority.     For  my  part  I  hold  Christianity 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM"  135 

to  be  what  is  taught  in  average  churches  and  chapels  to  the 
millions  of  professing  Christians.  And  I  say  it  is  a  very 
serious  fact  when  philosophical  defenders  of  religion  begin 
by  repudiating  that  which  is  taught  in  average  pulpits. 

Perhaps  a  little  more  attention  to  my  actual  words  might 
have  rendered  unnecessary  the  complaints  in  all  these  papers 
as  to  my  language  about  the  hopes  which  men  cherish  for  the 
future.  In  the  first  place  I  freely  admit  that  the  hopes  of  a 
grander  energy  in  heaven  are  not  open  to  the  charge  of 
vulgar  selfishness.  I  said  that  they  are  unintelligible,  not 
that  they  are  unworthy.  They  are  unintelligible  to  those  who 
are  continually  alive  to  the  fact  I  have  placed  as  my  first  pro- 
position— that  every  moral  phenomenon  is  in  functional  relation 
with  some  physical  phenomenon.  To  those  who  deny  or  ignore 
this  truth,  there  is  doubtless  no  incoherence  in  all  the  ideals 
so  eloquently  described  in  the  papers  of  Mr.  Hutton  and 
Lord  Blachford.  But  once  get  this  conception  as  the  substra- 
tum of  your  entire  mental  and  moral  philosophy,  and  it  is  as 
incoherent  to  talk  to  us  of  your  immaterial  development  as  it 
would  be  to  talk  of  obtaining  redness  without  any  red  thing. 

I  will  try  to  explain  more  fully  why  this  idea  of  a  glori- 
fied activity  implies  a  contradiction  in  terms  to  those  who  are 
imbued  with  the  sense  of  correspondence  between  physical 
and  moral  facts.  When  we  conceive  any  process  of  thinking, 
we  call  up  before  us  a  complex  train  of  conditions  ;  objective 
facts  outside  of  us  or  the  revived  impression  of  such  facts  ; 
the  molecular  effect  of  these  facts  upon  certain  parts  of  our 
organism,  the  association  of  these  with  similar  facts  recalled 
by  memory,  an  elaborate  mechanism  to  correlate  these  im- 


136  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

pressions,  an  unknown  to  be  made  known,  and  a  difficulty  to 
be  overcome.  All  systematic  thought  implies  relations  with 
the  external  world  present  or  recalled,  and  it  also  implies 
some  shortcoming  in  our  powers  of  perfecting  those  relations. 
When  we  meditate,  it  is  on  a  basis  of  facts  which  we  are  ob- 
serving, or  have  observed  and  are  now  recalling,  and  with  a 
view  to  get  at  some  result  which  baflfles  our  direct  observation 
and  hinders  some  practical  purpose. 

The  san\e  holds  good  of  our  moral  energy.  Ecstasy  and 
mere  adoration  exclude  energy  of  action.  Moral  development 
implies  difficulties  to  be  overcome,  qualities  balanced  against 
one  another  under  opposing  conditions,  this  or  that  appetite 
tempted,  this  or  that  instinct  tested  by  proof.  Moral  develop- 
ment does  not  grow  like  a  fungus  ;  it  is  a  continual  struggle 
in  surrounding  conditions  of  a  specific  kind,  and  an  active 
putting  forth  of  a  variety  of  practical  faculties  in  the  midst  of 
real  obstacles. 

Soj  too,  of  the  aifections,  they  equally  imply  conditions. 
Sympathy  does  not  spurt  up  like  a  fountain  in  the  air ;  it  im- 
plies beings  in  need  of  help,  evils  to  be  alleviated,  a  fellowship 
of  giving  and  taking,  the  sense  of  protecting  and  being  pro- 
tected, a  pity  for  suffering,  an  admiration  of  power,  goodness, 
and  truth.  All  of  these  imply  an  external  world  to  act  in, 
human  beings  as  objects,  and  human  life  under  human  con- 
ditions. 

Now  all  these  conditions  are  eliminated  from  the  orthodox 
ideal  of  a  future  state.  There  are  to  be  no  physical  impres- 
sions, no  material  difficulties,  no  evil,  no  toil,  no  struggle,  no 
human  beings,  and  no  human  objects.    The  only  condition  is 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  137 

a  complete  absence  of  all  conditions,  or  all  conditions  of 
which  we  have  any  experience.  And  we  say,  we  cannot  im- 
agine what  you  mean  by  your  intensified  sympathy,  your 
broader  thought,  your  infinitely  varied  activity,  when  you  be- 
gin by  postulating  the  absence  of  all  that  makes  sympathy, 
thought,  and  activity  possible,  all  that  makes  life  really 
noble. 

A  mystical  and  inane  ecstasy  is  an  appropriate  ideal 
for  this  paradise  of  negations,  and  this  is  the  orthodox  view; 
but  it  is  not  a  high  view.  A  glorified  existence  of  greater 
activity  and  development  may  be  a  high  view,  but  it  is  a  con- 
tradiction in  terms  ;  exactly,  I  say,  as  if  you  were  to  talk  of  a 
higher  civilization  without  any  human  beings.  But  this  is 
simply  a  metaphysical  afterthought  to  escape  from  a  moral 
dilemma.  Mr.  Hutton  is  surely  mistaken  in  saying  the  Posi- 
tivists  have  forgotten  that  Christians  ever  had  any  meaning 
in  their  hopes  of  a  "  beatific  vision."  He  must  know  that 
Dante  and  Thomas  k  Kempis  form  the  religious  books  of 
Positivists,  and  they  are,  with  some  other  manuals  of  Catho- 
lic theology,  amongst  the  small  number  of  volumes  which 
Comte  recommended  for  constant  use.  We  can  see  in  the 
celestial  "  visions  "  of  a  mystical  and  unscientific  age  much 
that  was  beautiful  in  its  time,  though  not  the  highest  product 
even  of  theology.  But  in  our  day  these  visions  of  paradise 
have  lost  what  moral  value  they  had,  whilst  the  progress  of 
philosophy  has  made  them  incompatible  with  our  modern 
canons  of  thought. 

Mr.  Hutton  supposes  me  to  object  to  any  continuance  of 
sensation  as  an  evil  in  itself.    My  objection  was  not  that 


138  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

consciousness  should  be  prolonged  in  immortality,  but  that 
nothing  else  but  consciousness  should  be  prolonged.  All  real 
human  life,  energ)-,  thought,  and  active  affection,  are  to  be 
made  impossible  in  your  celestial  paradise,  but  you  insist  on 
retaining  consciousness.  To  retain  the  power  of  feeling, 
whilst  all  means  and  object  are  taken  away  from  thinking,  all 
power  of  acting,  all  opportunity  of  cultivating  the  faculties  of 
sympathy  are  stifled :  this  seems  to  me  something  else  than 
a  good.  It  would  seem  to  me,  that  simply  to  be  conscious, 
and  yet  to  lie  thoughtless,  inactive,  irresponsive,  with  every 
faculty  of  a  man  paralyzed  within  you,  as  if  by  that  villanous 
drug  which  produces  torpor  whilst  it  intensifies  sensation : 
such  a  consciousness  as  this  must  be  a  very  place  of  torment. 

I  think  some  contradictions  which  Mr.  Hutton  supposes  he 
detects  in  my  paper  are  not  very  hard  to  reconcile.  I  admitted 
that  Death  is  an  evil,  it  seems  \  but  I  spoke  of  our  posthumous 
activity  as  a  higher  kind  of  influence.  We  might  imagine,  of 
course,  a  Utopia,  with  neither  suffering,  waste,  nor  loss ; 
and  compared  with  such  a  world,  the  world  as  we  know  it,  is 
full  of  evils,  of  which  Death  is  obviously  one.  But  relatively, 
in  such  a  world  as  alone  we  know.  Death  becomes  simply  a 
law  of  organized  nature,  from  which  we  draw  some  of  our 
guiding  motives  of  conduct;  In  precisely  the  same  way  the 
necessity  of  toil  is  an  evil  in  itself ;  but,  with  man  and  his 
life  as  we  know  them,  we  draw  from  it  some  of  our  highest 
moral  energies.  The  grandest  qualities  of  human  nature,  such 
as  we  know  it  at  least,  would  become  for  ever  impossible,  if 
Labor  and  Death  were  not  the  law  of  life. 

Mr.  Hutton  again  takes  but  a  pessimist  view  of  life  when 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUMr  139 

he  insists  how  much  of  our  activity  is  evil,  and  how  question- 
able is  the  future  of  the  race.  I  am  no  pessimist,  and  I  be- 
lieve in  a  providential  control  over  all  human  actions  by  the 
great  Power  of  Humanity,  which  indeed  brings  good  out  of 
evil,  and  assures,  at  least  for  some  thousands  of  centuries,  a 
certain  progress  towards  the  higher  state.  Pessimism  as  to 
the  essential  dignity  of  man  and  the  steady  development  of 
his  race,  is  one  of  the  surest  marks  of  the  enervating  influ- 
ence of  this  dream  of  a  celestial  glory.  If  I  called  it  as  wild 
a  desire  as  to  go  roving  through  space  in  a  comet,  it  is  be- 
cause I  can  attach  no  meaning  to  a  human  life  to  be  pro- 
longed without  a  human  frame  and  a  human  world ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  as  rational  to  talk  of  becoming  an  angel  as  to 
talk  of  becoming  an  ellipse. 

By  "  duties  "  of  the  world  beyond  the  grave,  I  meant  the 
duties  which  are  imposed  on  us  in  life,  by  the  certainty  that 
our  action  must  continue  to  have  an  indefinite  effect.  The 
phrase  may  be  inelegant,  but  I  do  not  think  the  meaning  is 
obscure. 

II.  I  cannot  agree  with  Lord  Blachford  that  I  have  fallen 
into  any  confusion  between  a  substance  and  an  attribute.  I 
am  quite  aware  that  the  word  Soul  has  been  hitherto  used  for 
some  centuries  as  an  entity.  And  I  proposed  to  retain  the 
term  for  an  attribute.  It  is  a  very  common  process  in  the 
history  of  thought.  Electricity,  Life,  Heat,  were  once  sup- 
posed to  be  substances.  We  now  very  usefully  retain  these 
words  for  a  set  of  observed  conditions  or  qualities. 

I  agree  with  Mr.  Spencer  that  the  unity  of  the  social  or- 
ganism is  quite  as  complete  as  that  of  the  individual  organ- 


140  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

ism.  I  do  not  confuse  the  two  kinds  of  unity  ;  but  I  say  that 
man  is  in  no  important  sense  a  unit  that  society  is  not  also  a 
unit. 

With  regard  to  the  "percipient  "and  the  "perceptible,"  I 
cannot  follow  Lord  Blachford.  He  speaks  a  tongue  that  I  do  not 
understand.  I  have  no  means  of  dividing  the  universe  into 
"percipients  "  and  "  perceptibles."  I  know  no  reason  why  a 
"  percipient "  should  not  be  a  "  perceptible,"  none  why  I 
should  not  be  "  perceptible,"  and  none  why  beings  about  me 
should  not  be  "  perceptible."  I  think  we  are  all  perfectly 
"  perceptible  " — indeed  some  of  us  are  more  "  perceptible  " 
than  "  percipient " — though  I  cannot  say  that  Lord  Blach- 
ford is  always  "  perceptible  "  to  me.  And  how  does  my  being 
"perceptible,"  or  not  being  "perceptible,"  prove  that  I  have 
an  immortal  soul  ?  Is  a  dog  "  perceptible,"  is  he  "  percipi- 
ent ?  "  Has  he  not  some  of  the  qualities  of  a  "  percipient," 
and  if  so,  has  he  an  immortal  soul  ?  Is  an  ant,  a  tree,  a 
bacterium,  percipient,  and  has  any  of  these  an  immortal  soul ; 
for  I  find  Lord  Blachford  declaring  there  is  an  "  ineradicable 
difference  between  the  motions  of  a  material  and  the  sens- 
ations of  a  living  being,"  as  if  the  animal  world  were  percipi- 
ent, and  the  inorganic  perceptible  ?  But  surely  in  the  sen- 
sations of  a  living  being  the  animal  world  must  be  included. 
Where  does  the  vegetable  world  come  in  ? 

I  used  the  word  "  organism  "  advisedly,  when  I  said  that 
will,  thought,  and  affection,  are  functions  of  a  living  organism. 
I  decline  exactly  to  localise  the  organ  of  any  function  of  mind 
or  will.  When  I  am  asked,  What  are  wel  \  reply  we  are 
men.    When  I  am  asked,  Are  we  our  bodies  ?  I  say  no,  nor 


A  MODERN '' symposium:'  j^j 

are  we  our  minds.  Have  we  no  sense  of  personality,  of  unity  ? 
I  am  asked.  I  say  certainly ;  it  is  an  acquired  result  of  our 
nervous  organization,  liable  to  be  interrupted  by  derange- 
ments of  that  nervous  organization.  What  is  it  that  makes 
us  think  and  feel  ?  The  facts  of  our  human  nature;  I  can- 
not get  behind  this,  and  I  need  no  further  explanation.  We 
are  men,  and  can  do  what  men  can  do.  I  say  the  tangible 
collection  of  organs  known  as  a  **  man  "  (not  the  consensus 
or  the  condition,  but  the  man)  thinks,  wills,  and  feels,  just  as 
much  as  that  visible  organism  lives  and  grows.  We  do  not 
'say  that  this  or  that  ganglion  in  particular  lives  and  grows  ; 
•we  say  the  man  grows.  It  is  as  easy  to  me  to  imagine  that 
we  shall  grow  fifteen  feet  high,  when  we  have  no  body,  as  that 
we  shall  grow  in  knowledge,  goodness,  activity,  &c.,  &c.,  &c., 
when  we  have  no  organs.  And  the  absence  of  all  molecular 
attributes  would  be,  I  should  think,  particularly  awkward  in 
that  life  of  cometary  motion  in  the  interstellar  spaces  with 
which   Lord   Blachford    threatens    us.        But    as   the  poet 

says : — 

Trasumanar  significar  per  verba. 
Non  si  porria — 

"  If"  says  he,  "  practical  duties  are  necessary  for  the  perfec- 
tion of  life,"  we  can  take  a  little  interstellar  exercise.  Why, 
practical  duties  are  the  sum  and  substance  of  life  ;  and  life 
which  does  not  centre  in  practical  duties  is  not  Life,  but  a 
trance. 

Lord  Blachford,  who  is  somewhat  punctilious  in  terms, 
asks  me  what  I  consider  myself  to  understand  "  by  the  in- 
corporation of  a  consensus  of  faculties  with  a  glorious  future." 


1^2  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Well !  it  so  happens  that  I  did  not  use  that  phrase.  I  have 
never  spoken  of  an  immortal  Soul  anywhere,  nor  do  I  use  the 
word  Soul  of  any  but  the  living  man.  I  said  a  man  might 
look  forward  to  incorporation  with  the  future  of  his  race,  ex- 
plaining that  to  mean  his"  posthumous  activity."  And  I  think 
at  any  rate  the  phrase  is  quite  as  reasonable  as  to  say  that  I 
look  forward,  as  Mr.  Hutton  does,  to  a  "  union  with  God." 
What  does  Mr.  Hutton,  or  Lord  Blachford,  understand  him- 
self to  mean  by  that  ? 

Surely  Lord  Blachford's  epigram  about  the  fiddle  and  the 
tune  is  hardly  fortunate.  Indeed,  that  exactly  expresses  what 
I  find  faulty  in  the  view  of  himself  and  the  theologians.  He 
thinks  the  tune  will  go  on  playing  when  the  fiddle  is  broken 
up  and  burned.  I  say  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  do  not  say  the 
man  will  continue  to  exist  after  death.  I  simply  say  that  his 
influence  will ;  that  other  men  will  do  and  think  what  he 
taught  them  to  do  or  to  think.  Just  so,  a  general  would  be 
said  to  win  a  battle  which  he  planned  and  directed,  even  if  he 
had  been  killed  in  an  early  part  of  it.  What  is  there  of  fiddle 
and  tune  about  this  ?  I  certainly  think  that  when  Mozart  and 
Beethoven  have  left  us  great  pieces  of  music,  it  signifies  little 
to  art  if  the  actual  fiddle  or  even  the  actual  composer  con- 
tinue to  exist  or  not.  I  never  said  the  tune  would  exist.  I 
said  that  men  would  remember  it  and  repeat  it.  I  must 
thank  Lord  Blachford  for  a  happy  illustration  of  my  own 
meaning.  But  it  is  he  who  expects  the  tune  to  exist  without 
the  fiddle,  /say,  you  can't  have  a  tune  without  a  fiddle,  nor 
a  fiddle  without  wood. 

in.    I  have  reserved  the  criticism  of  Professor  Huxley, 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  143 

because  it  lies  apart  from  the  principle  discussion,  and  turns 
mainly  on  some  incidental  remarks  of  mine  on  "  biological 
reasoning  about  spiritual  things." 

I  note  three  points  at  the  outset.  Professor  Huxley  does 
not  himself  pretend  to  any  evidence  for  a  theological  soul  and 
future  life.  Again,  he  does  not  dispute  the  account  I  give  of 
the  functional  relation  of  physical  and  moral  facts.  He 
seems  surprised  that  I  should  understand  it,  not  being  a 
biologist ;  but  he  is  kind  enough  to  say  that  my  statement 
may  pass.  Lastly,  he  does  not  deny  the  reality  of  man's  post- 
humous activity.  Now  these  three  are  the  main  purposes  of 
my  argument ;  and  in  these  I  have  Professor  Huxley  with  me. 
He  is  no  more  of  a  theologian  than  I  am.  Indeed,  he  is  only 
scandalized  that  I  should  see  any  good  in  priests  at  all.  He 
might  have  said  more  plainly  that,  when  the  man  is  dead,  there 
is  an  end  of  the  matter.  But  this  clearly  is  his  opinion,  and 
he  intimates  as  much  in  his  paper.  Only  he  would  say  no 
more  about  it,  bury  the  carcase,  and  end  the  tale,  leaving  all 
thoughts  about  the  future  to  those  whose  faith  is  more  robust 
and  whose  hopes  are  richer  j  by  which  I  understand  him  to 
mean  persons  weak  enough  to  listen  to  the  priests. 

Now  this  does  not  satisfy  me.  I  call  it  materialism,  for  it 
exaggerates  the  importance  of  the  physical  facts,  and  ignores 
that  of  the  spiritual  facts.  And  the  object  of  my  paper  was 
simply  this :  that  as  the  physical  facts  are  daily  growing  quite 
irresistible,  it  is  of  urgent  importance  to  place  the  spiritual 
facts  on  a  sound  scientific  basis  at  once.  Professor  Huxley 
implies  that  his  business  is  with  the^  physical  facts,  and  th.Q 
spiritual  facts  must  take  care  of  tliemselves.     I  cannot  agree 


144  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

with  him.  That  is  precisely  the  difference  between  us.  The 
spiritual  facts  of  man's  nature  are  the  business  of  all  who  un- 
dertake to  denounce  priestcraft,  and  especially  of  those  who 
preach  Lay  Sermons. 

Professor  Huxley  complains  that  I  should  join  in  the  view- 
halloo  against  biological  science.  Now  I  never  have  sup- 
posed that  biological  science  was  in  the  position  of  the  hunted 
fox.  I  thought  it  was  the  hunter,  booted  and  spurred  and 
riding  over  us  all,  with  Professor  Huxley  leaping  the  most  ter- 
rific gates  and  cracking  his  whip  with  intense  gusto.  As  to 
biological  science,  it  is  the  last  thing  that  I  should  try  to  run 
down ;  and  I  must  protest,  with  all  sincerity,  that  I  wrote 
without  a  thought  of  Professor  Huxley  at  all.  He  insists  on 
knowing,  in  the  most  peremptory  way,  of  whom  I  was  think- 
ing, as  if  I  were  thinking  of  him.  Of  whom  else  could  I  be 
thinking,  forsooth,  when  I  spoke  of  Biology  ?  Well  I  I  did 
not  bite  my  thumb  at  him,  but  I  bit  my  thumb. 

Seriously,  I  was  not  writing  at  Professor  Huxley,  or  I 
should  have  named  him.  I  have  a  very  great  admiration  for 
his  work  in  biology ;  I  have  learned  much  from  him  j  I  have 
followed  his  courses  of  lectures  years  and  years  ago,  and  have 
carefully  studied  his  books.  If,  in  questions  which  belong  to 
sociology,  morals,  and  to  general  philosophy,  he  seems  to  me 
hardly  an  authority,  why  need  we  dispute  ?  Dog  should  not 
bite  dog  ;  and  he  and  I  have  many  a  wolf  that  we  both  would 
keep  from  the  fold. 

But  if  I  did  not  mean  Professor  Huxley,  whom  did  I  mean  ? 
Now  my  paper,  I  think  clearly  enough,  alluded  to  two  very 
different  kinds  of  Materialism.   There  is  systematic  Material- 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM.  ,45 

ism,  and  there  is  the  vague  Materialism.  The  eminent  ex- 
ample of  the  first  is  the  unlucky  remark  of  Cabanis  that  the 
brain  secretes  thought,  as  the  liver  secretes  bile ;  and  there  is 
much  of  the  same  sort  in  many  foreign  theories — in  the  tone 
of  Moleschott,  Buchner,  and  the  like.  The  most  distinct  ex- 
amples of  it  in  this  country  are  found  amongst  phrenologists, 
spiritualists,  some  mental  pathologists,  and  a  few  communist 
visionaries.  The  far  wider,  vaguer,  and  more  dangerous 
school  of  Materialism  is  found  in  a  multitude  of  quarters — in 
all  those  who  insist  exclusively  on  the  physical  side  of  moral 
phenomena — all,  in  short,  who,  to  use  Professor  Huxley's 
phrase,  are  employed  in  "  building  up  a  physical  theory  of 
moral  phenomena."  Those  who  confuse  moral  and  physical 
phenomena  are  indeed  few.  Those  who  exaggerate  the 
physical  side  of  moral  phenomena  are  many. 

Now,  though  I  did  not  allude  to  Professor  Huxley  in 
what  I  wrote,  his  criticism  convinces  me  that  he  is  some- 
times at  least  found  among  these  last.  His  paper  is  an  ex- 
cellent illustration  of  the  very  error  which  I  condemned. 
The  issue  between  us  is  this : — ^We  both  agree  that  every 
mental  and  moral  fact  is  in  functional  relation  with  some 
molecular  fact.  So  far  we  are  entirely  on  the  same  side,  as 
against  all  forms  of  theological  and  metaphysical  doctrine 
which  conceive  the  possibility  of  human  feeling  without  a 
human  body.  But  then,  says  Professor  Huxley,  if  I  can  trace 
the  molecular  facts  which  are  the  antecedents  of  the  mental 
and  moral  facts,  I  have  eA7>/cz/«(?</ these  mental  and  moral  facts. 
That  I  deny ;  just  as  much  as  I  should  deny  that  a  chemical 

analysis  of  the  body  could  ever  lead  to  an  explanation  of  the 

10 


146  QUESTIONS  OF  BEtlEF. 

physical  organism.  Then,  says  the  Professor,  when  I  have 
traced  out  the  molecular  facts,  I  have  built  up  a  physical 
theory  of  moral phenoinena.  That  again  I  deny.  I  say  there 
is  no  such  thing,  or  no  rational  thing,  that  can  be  called  a 
physical  theory  of  moral  phenomena ;  any  more  than  there 
is  a  moral  theory  of  physical  phenomena.  What  sort  of  a 
thing  would  be  a  physical  theory  of  history — history  explained 
by  the  influence  of  climate  or  the  like  ?  The  issue  between 
us  centres  in  this.  I  say  that  the  physical  side  of  moral 
phenomena  bears  about  the  same  part  in  the  moral  sciences 
that  the  facts  about  climate  bear  in  the  sum  of  human  civil- 
isation. And,  that  to  look  to  the  physical  facts  as  an  explan- 
ation of  the  moral,  or  even  as  an  independent  branch  of  the 
study  of  moral  facts,  is  perfectly  idle  ;  just  as  it  would  be  if 
a  mere  physical  geographer  pretended  to  give  us,  out  of  his 
geography,  a  climatic  philosophy  of  history.  Yet  Professor 
Huxley  has  not  been  deterred  from  the  astounding  paradox 
of  proposing  to  us  a  physiological  theory  of  religion.  He  tells 
us  how  "  the  religious  feelings  may  be  brought  within  the 
range  of  physiological  inquiry."  And  he  proposes  as  a 
problem — "  What  diseased  viscus  may  have  been  responsible  for 
the  ^Priest  in  Absolution  V^^  I  will  drop  all  epithets  ;  but  I 
must  say  that  I  call  that  materialism,  and  materialism  not 
very  nice  of  its  kind.  One  might  as  reasonably  propose  as  a 
problem — What  barometrical  readings  are  responsible  for  the 
British  Constitution  ?  and  suggest  a  congress  of  meteorol- 
ogists to  do  the  work  of  Hallam,  Stubbs,  and  Freeman.  No 
doubt  there  is  some  connection  between  the  House  of  Com- 
mons and  the  English  climate,  and  so  there  is  no  doubt  some 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  147 

connection  between  religious  theories  and  physical  organs. 
But  to  talk  of  "  bringing  religion  within  the  range  of  physio- 
logical inquiry  "  is  simply  to  stare  through  the  wrong  end  of 
the  telescope,  and  to  turn  philosophy  and  science  upside 
down.  Ah  !  Professor  Huxley,  this  is  a  bad  day's  work  for 
scientific  progress — 

ri  xz'>  yrrjOiijffat  Upiafioq^  Upcd/iotS  re  izatSsi;. 

Pope  Pius  and  his  people  will  be  glad  when  they  read  that 
fatal  sentence  of  yours.  When  I  complained  of  "the  attempt 
to  dispose  of  the  deepest  moral  truths  of  human  nature  on  a 
bare  physical  or  physiological  basis,"  I  could  not  have  ex- 
pected to  read  such  an  illustration  of  my  meaning  by  Profes- 
sor Huxley. 

Perhaps  he  will  permit  me  to  inform  him  (since  that  is 
the  style  which  he  affects)  that  there  once  was — and  indeed 
we  may  say  still  is— an  institution  called  the  Catholic  Church ; 
that  it  has  had  a  long  and  strange  history,  and  subtle  influ- 
ences of  all  kinds ;  and  I  venture  to  think  that  Professor 
Huxley  may  learn  more  about  the  Priest  in  Absolution  by  a 
few  weeks'  study  of  the  Catholic  system  than  by  inspecting 
the  diseased  viscera  of  the  whole  human  race.  When  Profes- 
sor Huxley's  historical  and  religious  studies  "  have  advanced 
so  far  as  to  enable  him  to  explain  "  the  history  of  Catholi- 
cism, I  think  he  will  admit  that  "  Priestcraft "  cannot  well 
be  made  a  chapter  in  a  physiological  manual.  It  may  be 
cheap  pulpit  thunder,  but  this  idea  of  his  of  inspecting  a 
"  diseased  viscus  "  is  precisely  what  I  meant  by  "  biological 
reasoning  about  spiritual  things."    And  I  stand  by  it,  that 


148  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

it  is  just  as  false  in  science  as  it  is  deleterious  in  morals.  It 
is  an  attempt  (I  will  not  say  arrogant,  I  am  inclined  to  use 

9 

another  epithet)  to  explain,  by  physical  observations,  what 
can  only  be  explained  by  the  most  subtle  moral,  sociological, 
and  historical  observations.  It  is  to  think  you  can  find  the 
golden  eggs  by  cutting  up  the  goose,  instead  of  watching  the 
goose  to  see  where  she  lays  the  eggs. 

I  am  quite  aware  that  Professor  Huxley  has  elsewhere 
formulated  his  belief  that  Biology  is  the  science  which  "  in- 
cludes man  and  all  his  ways  and  works."  If  history,  law,  poli- 
tics, morals,  and  political  economy,  are  merely  branches  of 
biology,  we  shall  want  new  dictionaries  indeed ;  and  biology 
will  embrace  about  four-fifths  of  human  knowledge.  But 
this  is  not  a  question  of  language  ;  for  we  here  have  Profes- 
sor Huxley  actually  bringing  religion  within  the  range  oiphysi- 
ological  inquiry,  and  settling  its  problems  by  references  to 
"  diseased  viscus."  But  the  differences  between  us  are  a 
long  story ;  and  since  Professor  Huxley  has  sought  me  out, 
and  in  somewhat  monitorial  tone  has  proposed  to  set  me 
right,  I  will  take  an  early- occasion  to  try  and  set  forth  what 
I  find  paradoxical  in  his  notions  of  the  relations  of  Biology 
and  Philosophy. 

I  note  a  few  special  points  between  us,  and  I  have  done. 
Professor  Huxley  is  so  well  satisfied  with  his  idea  of  a  "  phys- 
ical theory  of  moral  phenomena,"  that  he  constantly  attrib- 
utes that  sense  to  my  words,  though  I  carefully  guarded  my 
language  from  such  a  construction.  Thus  he  quotes  from  me 
a  passage  beginning,  "  Man  is  one,  however  compound,"  but 
he  breaks  off  the  quotation  just  as  I  go  on  to  speak  of  the 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  j^^ 

direct  analysis  of  mental  and  moral  faculties  by  menial  and 
moral  science,  not  by  physiological  science.  I  say :  "  phi- 
losophy and  science  "  have  accomplished  explanations  ;  I  do 
not  say  biology ;  and  the  biological  part  of  the  explanation 
is  a  small  and  subordinate  part  of  the  whole.  I  do  not  say 
that  the  correspondence  between  physical  and  moral  phe- 
nomena is  an  explanation  of  the  human  organism.  Professor 
Huxley  says  that,  and  I  call  it  materialism.  Nor  do  I  say 
that  "  spiritual  sensibility  is  a  bodily  function."  I  say,  it  is  a 
moral  function ;  and  I  complain  that  Professor  Huxley 
ignores  the  distinction  between  moral  and  physical  functions 
of  the  human  organism. 

As  to  the  distinction  between  anatomy  and  physiology,  if 
he  will  look  at  my  words  again,  he  will  see  that  I  use  these 
terms  with  perfect  accuracy.  Six  lines  below  the  passage 
he  quotes,  I  speak  of  the  human  mechanism  being  only  ex- 
plained by  a  "  complete  anatomy  and  biology"  showing  that 
anatomy  is  merely  one  of  the  instruments  of  biology. 

He  might  be  surprised  to  hear  that  he  does  not  himself 
give  an  accurate  definition  of  physiology.  But  so  it  is.  He 
says  :  "  Physiology  is  the  science  which  treats  of  the  functions 
of  living  organism."  Not  so  ;  for  the  finest  spiritual  sensibil- 
ity is,  as  Professor  Huxley  admits,  a  function  of  a  living  or- 
ganism ;  and  physiology  is  not  the  science  which  treats  of  the 
spiritual  sensibilities.  They  belong  to  moral  science.  There 
are  mental,  moral,  affective  functions  of  the  living  organism  ; 
and  they  are  not  within  the  province  of  physiology.  Physiol- 
og}'^  is  the  science  which  treats  of  the  bodily  functions  of  the 
living  organism ;  as  Professor  Huxley  says  in  his  admirable 


15©  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Elementary  Lessons,  it  deals  with  the  facts  "  concerning  the 
action  of  the  body^  I  complain  of  the  pseudo-science  which 
drops  that  distinction  for  a  minute.  He  says:  "The  ex- 
planation of  a  physiological  function  is  the  demonstration 
of  the  connection  of  that  function  with  the  molecular  state 
of  the  organ  which  exerts  that  function."  That  I  dispute. 
It  is  only  a  small  part  of  the  explanation.  The  explan- 
ation substantially  is  the  demonstration  of  the  laws  and 
all  the  conditions  of  the  function.  The  explanation  of 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  is  the  demonstration  of  all 
its  laws,  modes,  and  conditions  ;  and  the  molecular  ante- 
cedents of  it  are  but  a  small  part  of  the  explanation.  The 
principal  part  relates  to  the  molar  (and  not  to  the  molec- 
ular) action  of  the  heart  and  other  organs.  **  The  function 
of  motion  is  explained,"  he  says,  "  when  the  movements  of 
the  living  body  are  found  to  have  certain  molecular  changes 
for  their  invariable  antecedents."  Nothing  of  the  kind.  The 
function  of  bodily  motion  is  explained  when  the  laws,  modes, 
and  conditions  of  that  motion  are  demonstrated ;  and  molecu- 
lar antecedents  are  but  a  part  of  these  conditions.  The  main 
part  of  the  explanation,  again,  deals  with  molar,  not  molecu- 
lar, states,  of  certain  organs.  "  The  function  of  sensation  is 
explained,"  says  Professor  Huxley,  "when  the  molecular 
changes,  which  are  the  invariable  antecedents  of  sensations, 
are  discovered."  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  function  of  sensation 
is  only  explained  when  the  laws  and  conditions  of  sensation 
are  demonstrated.  And  the  main  part  of  this  demonstration 
will  come  from  direct  observation  of  the  sensitive  organism 
organically,  and  by  no  molecular  discovery  whatever.    All  this 


A  MODERN  "  S  YMPO  SIUM:'  i  5 1 

is  precisely  the  materialism  which  I  condemn ;  the  fancy- 
ing that  one  science  can  do  the  work  of  another,  and  that  any 
molecular  discovery  can  dispense  with  direct  study  of  organ- 
isms in  their  organic,  social,  mental,  and  moral  aspects.  Will 
Professor  Huxley  say  that  the  function  of  this  Symposium  is 
explained,  when  we  have  chemically  analysed  the  solids  and 
liquids  which  are  now  effecting  molecular  change  in  our  re- 
spective digestive  apparatus  ?  If  so,  let  us  ask  the  butler  if 
he  cannot  produce  a  less  heady  and  more  mellow  vintage. 
What  irritated  viscus  is  responsible  for  the  Materialist  in  Phi- 
losophy 1  We  shall  all  philosophise  aright,  if  our  friend  Tyn- 
dall  can  hit  for  us  the  exact  chemical  formula  for  our  drinks. 
It  does  not  surprise  me,  so  much  as  it  might,  to  find  Pro- 
fessor Huxley  slipping  into  really  inaccurate  definitions  in 
physiology,  when  I  remember  that  hallucination  of  his  about 
questions  of  science  becoming  questions  of  molecular  physics. 
The  molecular  facts  are  valuable  enough ;  but  we  are  getting 
molecular-mad,  if  we  forget  that  molecular  facts  have  only  a 
special  part  in  physiology,  and  hardly  any  part  at  all  in  sociol- 
ogy, history,  morals,  and  politics  ;  though  I  quite  agree  that 
"there  is  no  single  fact  in  social,  moral,  or  mental  philosophy, 
that  has  not  its  correspondence  in  some  molecular  fact,  if  we 
only  could  know  it.  All  human  things  undoubtedly  depend 
on,  and  are  certainly  connected  with,  the  general  laws  of  the 
solar  system.  And  to  say  that  questions  of  human  organisms, 
much  less  of  human  society,  tend  to  become  questions  of  molec- 
ular physics,  is  exactly  the  kind  of  confusion  it  would  be,  if  I 
said  that  questions  of  history  tend  to  become  questions  of  as- 
tronomy, and  that  the  more  refined  calculations  of  planetary 


1^2         •  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

movements  in  the  future  will  explain  to  us  the  causes  of  the 
English  Rebellion  and  the  French  Revolution. 

There  is  an  odd  instance  of  this  confusion  of  thought  at  the 
close  of  Professor  Huxley's  paper,  which  still  more  oddly  Lord 
Blachford,  who  is  so  strict  in  his  logic,  cites  with  approval. 
**  Has  a  stone  a  future  life,"  says  Professor  Huxley,  "  because 
the  wavelets  it  may  cause  in  the  sea  persist  through  space  and 
time  ? "  Well !  has  a  stone  a  life  at  all .?  because  if  it  has  no 
present  life,  I  cannot  see  why  it  should  have  a  future  life. 
How  is  any  reasoning  about  the  inorganic  world  to  help  us 
here  in  reasoning  about  the  organic  world  ?  Professor  Hux- 
ley and  Lord  Blachford  might  as  well  ask  if  a  stone  is  capable 
of  civilisation  because  I  said  that  man  was.  I  think  that  man 
is  wholly  different  from  a  stone  ;  and  from  a  fiddle  ;  and  even 
from  a  dog  ;  and  that  to  say  that  a  man  cannot  exert  any  in- 
fluence on  other  men  after  his  death,  because  a  dog  cannot, 
or  because  a  fiddle,  or  because  a  stone  cannot,  may  be  to  re- 
produce with  rather  needless  affectation  the  verbal  quibbles 
and  pitfalls  which  Socrates  and  the  sophists  prepared  for 
each  other  in  some  wordy  symposium  of  old. 

Lastly,  Professor  Huxley  seems  to  think  that  he  has  dis- 
posed of  me  altogether,  so  soon  as  he  can  point  to  a  sympathy 
between  theologians  and  myself.  I  trust  there  is  great  affinity 
and  great  sympathy  between  us  ;  and  pray  let  him  not  think 
that  I  am  in  the  least  ashamed  of  that  common  ground. 
Positivism  has  quite  as  much  sympathy  with  the  genuine 
theologian  as  it  has  with  the  scientific  specialist.  The 
former  may  be  working-on  a  wrong  intellectual  basis,  and 
often  it  may  be  by  most  perverted  methods  ;  but  in  the  best 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  153 

types  he  has  a  high  social  aim  and  a  great  moral  cause  to 
maintain  amongst  men.  The  latter  is  usually  right  in  his 
intellectual  basis  as  far  as  it  goes ;  but  it  does  not  go  very 
far,  and  in  the  great  moral  cause  of  the  spiritual  destinies  of 
men  he  is  often  content  with  utter  indifference  and  simple 
nihilism.  Mere  raving  at  priestcraft,  and  beadles,  and  out- 
ward investments,  is  indeed  a  poor  solution  of  the  mighty 
problems  of  the  human  soul  and  of  social  organisation. 
And  the  instinct  of  the  mass  of  mankind  will  long  reject 
a  biology  which  has  nothing  for  these  but  a  sneer.  It  will 
not  do  for  Professor  Huxley  to  say  that  he  is  only  a  poor 
biologist  and  careth  for  none  of  these  things.  His  biology, 
however,  "  includes  man  and  all  his  ways  and  works."  Be- 
sides, he  is  a  leader  in  Israel ;  he  has  preached  an  entire 
volume  of  Lay  Sermons  ;  and  he  has  waged  many  a  war  with 
theologians  and  philosophers  on  religious  and  philosophic 
problems.  What,  if  I  may  ask  him,  is  his  own  religion  and 
his  own  philosophy  ?  He  says  that  he  knows  no  scientific 
men  who  "neglect  all  philosophical  and  religious  synthesis." 
In  that  he  is  fortunate  in  his  circle  of  acquaintance.  But 
since  he  is  so  earnest  in  asking  me  questions,  let  me  ask  him 
to  tell  the  world  what  is  his  own  synthesis  of  philosophy,  what 
is  his  own  idea  of  religion  ?  He  can  laugh  at  the  worship  of 
Priests  and  Positivists  ;  whom,  or  what,  does  he  worship  .?  If 
he  dislikes  the  word  Soul,  does  he  think  man  has  anything  that 
can  be  called  a  spiritual  nature  ?  If  he  derides  my  idea  of  a 
Future  life,  does  bethink  that  there  is  anything  which  can  be 
said  of  a  man,  when  his  carcase  is  laid  beneath  the  sod,  be- 
yond a  simple  final  Va/e  ? 


154  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

P.S. — And  now  space  fails  me  to  reply  to  the  appeals  of 
so  many  critics.  I  cannot  enter  with  Mr.  Roden  Noel  on 
that  great  question  of  the  materialisation  of  the  spirits  of  the 
dead;  I  know  not  whether  we  shall  be  "  made  one  with  the 
great  Elohim,  or  angels  of  Nature,  or  if  we  shall  grovel  in 
dead  material  bodily  life."  I  know  nothing  of  this  high  mat- 
ter :  I  do  not  comprehend  this  language.  Nor  can  I  add 
anything  to  what  I  have  said  on  that  sense  of  personality 
which  Lord  Selborne  and  Canon  Barry  so  eloquently  press 
on  me.  To  me  that  sense  of  personality  is  a  thing  of  some- 
what slow  growth,  resulting  froni  our  entire  nervous  organisa- 
tion and  our  composite  mental  constitution.  It  seems  to  me 
that  we  can  often  trace  it  building  up  and  trace  it  again  de- 
caying away.  We  feel  ourselves  to  be  men^  because  we  have 
human  bodies  and  human  minds.  Is  that  not  enough  ?  Has 
the  baby  of  an  hour  this  sense  of  personality  ?  Are  you  sure 
that  a  dog  or  an  elephant  has  not  got  it  ?  Then  has  the  baby 
no  soul ;  has  the  dog  a  soul  ?  Do  you  know  more  of  your 
neighbor,  apart  from  inference,  than  you  know  of  the  dog? 
Again,  I  cannot  enter  upon  Mr.  Greg's  beautiful  reflections, 
save  to  point  out  how  largely  he  supports  me.  He  shows,  I 
think  with  masterly  logic,  how  difficult  it  is  to  fit  this  new 
notion  of  a  glorified  activity  on  to  the  old  orthodoxy  of  beatific 
ecstasy.  Canon  Barry  reminds  us  how  this  orthodoxy  in- 
volved the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and  the  same  difficulty 
has  driven  Mr.  Roden  Noel  to  suggest  that  the  material  world 
itself  may  be  the  debris  of  the  just  made  perfect.  But  Dr. 
Ward,  as  might  be  expected,  falls  back  on  tlie  beatific  ecstasy 
as  conceived  by  the  mystics  of  the  thirteenth  century.     No 


A  MODERN  "  S  YATFOSIUM. "  155 

word  here  about  moral  activity  and  the  social  converse,  as  in 
the  Elysian  fields,  imagined  by  philosophers  of  less  orthodox 
severity. 

One  word  more.  If  my  language  has  given  any  believer 
pain,  I  regret  it  sincerely.  It  may  have  been  somewhat  ob- 
scure, since  it  has  been  so  widely  arraigned,  and  I  think  mis- 
conceived. My  position  is  this.  The  idea  of  a  glorified 
energy  in  an  ampler  life  is  an  idea  utterly  incompatible  with 
exact  thought,  one  which  evaporates  in  contradictions,  in 
phrases  which  when  pressed  have  no  meaning.  The  idea  of 
beatific  ecstasy  is  the  old  and  orthodox  idea  ;  it  does  not  in- 
volve so  many  contradictions  as  the  former  idea,  but  then  it 
does  not  satisfy  our  moral  judgment.  I  say  plainly  that  the 
hope  of  such  an  infinite  elcstasy  is  an  inane  and  unworthy 
crown  of  a  human  life.  And  when  Dr.  Ward  assures  me  that 
it  is  merel)'  the  prolongation  of  the  saintly  life,  then  I  say  the 
saintly  life  is  an  inane  and  unworthy  life.  The  words  I  used 
about  the  "  selfish  "  view  of  futurity,  I  applied  only  to  those 
who  say  they  care  for  nothing  but  personal  enjoyment,  and  to 
those  whose  only  aim  is  "  to  save  their  own  souls,"  Mr.  Bald- 
win Brown  has  nobly  condemned  this  creed  in  words  far 
stronger  than  mine.  And  here  let  us  close  with  the  reflection 
that  the  language  of  controversy  must  always  be  held  to  ap- 
ply not  to  the  character  of  our  opponents,  but  to  the  logical 
consequences  of  their  doctrines,  if  uncorrected  and  if  forced 
to  their  extreme. 


A  MODERN  ''  symposium:''' 


THE  INFLUENCE  UPON  MORALITY  OF  A  DE- 
CLINE IN  RELIGIOUS  BELIEF. 

SIR  JAMES  STEPHEN. 

Many  persons  regard  everything  which  tends  to  discredit 
theology  with  disapprobation,  because  they  think  that  all  such 
speculations  must  endanger  morality  as  well.  Others  assert 
that  morality  has  a  basis  of  its  own  in  human  nature,  and 
that,  even  if  all  theological  belief  were  exploded,  morality 
would  remain  unaffected. 

My  own  view  is  that  each  party  is  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent right,  but  that  the  true  practical  inference  is  often 
neglected. 

Understanding  by  the  theology  of  an  age  or  country  the 
theory  of  the  universe  generally  accepted  then  and  there,  and 
by  its  morality  the  rules  of  life  then  and  there  commonly  re- 
garded as  binding,  it  seems  to  me  extravagant  to  say  that  the 
one  does  not  influence  the  other.     The  difference  between 

^  The  Nineteenth  Century,  April  and  May,  1877. 

»57 


158  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

living  in  a  country  where  the  established  theory  is  that  exis 
tence  is  an  evil,  and  annihilation  the  highest  good,  and  living 
in  a  country  where  the  established  theory  is  that  the  earth  is 
the  Lord's  and  the  fulness  thereof,  the  round  world  and  they 
that  dwell  therein,  has  surely  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  other 
differences  which  distinguish  Englishmen  from  Buddhists. 

Even  if  it  be  said  that  such  differences  are  merely  a  way 
of  expressing  the  result  of  a  difference  of  temperament  and 
constitution  otherwise  caused,  this  does  not  diminish  the 
effect  of  a  belief  in  the  truth  of  the  theory.  Kali,  Bhowanee, 
and  other  malevolent  deities  worshipped  in  India  are  prob- 
ably phantoms  engendered  by  fear  working  on  a  rank  fancy  ; 
but  this  does  not  make  the  belief  in  their  real  existence  less 
influential  in  those  who  hold  it.  A  man  who  cuts  off  the  end 
of  his  tongue  to  propitiate  Kali  would  let  it  alone  if  he 
ceased  to  believe  in  her  existence,  though  the  temper  of 
mind  which  created  her  might  still  remain,  and  show  itself  in 
other  ways. 

The  belief  that  the  course  of  the  world  is  ordered  by  a 
good  God,  that  right  and  wrong  are  in  the  nature  of  a  divine 
law,  that  this  world  is  a  place  of  trial,  and  part  only  of  a 
wider  existence — in  a  word,  the  belief  in  God  and  a  future 
state — may  be  accounted  for  in  various  ways.  Now  that  in 
this  country  (to  go  no  further)  the  vast  majority  of  people  be- 
lieve these  doctrines  to  be  true  in  fact  just  as  they  believe  it 
to  be  true  in  fact  that  ships  and  carriages  can  be  driven  by 
steam,  and  that  their  conduct  is  in  innumerable  instances  as 
distinctly  influenced  by  the  one  belief  as  by  the  other,  appear 
to  me  to  be  propositions  too  plain  to  be  proved. 


k 


A  MODERN  " SYMPOSIUM.''  155 

On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  at  least  equally  evident  that 
morality  has  a  basis  of  its  own  quite  independent  of  all  the- 
ology whatever.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  any  doctrine  about 
theology  which  has  not  prevailed  at  some  time  or  place  ;  but 
no  one  ever  heard  of  men  living  together  without  some  rules 
of  life — that  is,  without  some  sort  of  morality.  Given  human 
action  and  human  passion,  and  a  vast  number  of  people  all 
acting  and  feeling,  moral  rules  of  conduct  of  some  sort  are 
a  necessary  consequence.  The  destruction  of  religion  would, 
I  think,  involve  a  moral  revolution ;  but  it  would  no  more 
destroy  morality  than  a  political  revolution  destroys  law.  It 
would  substitute  one  set  of  moral  rules  and  sentiments  for 
another,  just  as  the  establishment  of  Christianity  and  Mo- 
hammedanism did  when  they  superseded  various  forms  of 
paganism. 

It  would  be  scarcely  worth  while  to  write  down  these  com- 
mon-places, if  it  were  not  for  the  sake  of  the  practical  infer- 
ence. It  is  that  theology  and  morality  ought  to  stand  to 
each  other  in  precisely  the  same  relation  as  facts  and  legisla- 
tion. 

No  one  would  propose  to  support  by  artificial  means  a 
law  passed  under  a  mistake,  for  fear  it  should  have  to  be  al- 
tered. To  say  that  the  truth  of  a  theological  doctrine  must 
not  be  questioned,  lest  the  discovery  of  its  falsehood  should 
produce  a  bad  moral  effect,  is  in  principle  precisely  the  same 
thing.  It  is  at  least  as  unlikely  that  false  theology  should 
produce  good  morals  as  that  legislation  based  on  a  mistaken 
view  of  facts  should  work  well  in  practice. 

I  will  give  two  illustrations  of  this — any  number  might  be 


i6o  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

given.  Suicide  is  commonly  regarded  as  wrong ;  and  this 
moral  doctrine  is  defended  on  theological  grounds,  which  are 
summed  up  in  the  old  saying  that  the  soldier  must  not  leave 
his  post  till  he  is  relieved.  I  will  not  inquire  whether  any 
other  argument  can  be  produced  forbidding  suicide  to  a  per- 
son laboring  under  a  disease  which  converts  his  whole  life 
into  one  long  scene  of  excruciating  agony,  and  which  must 
kill  him  in  the  course  of  a  few  useless  months,  during  which 
he  is  a  source  of  misery,  and  perhaps  danger,  to  his  nearest 
and  dearest  friends.  I  confine  myself  to  saying  that,  if  it 
could  be  shown  that  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  God 
has  in  fact  forbidden  such  an  act,  its  morality  might  be  dis- 
cussed and  decided  upon  on  different  grounds  from  those  on 
which  it  must  be  considered  and  decided  upon  on  the  op- 
posite hypothesis. 

Take  again  the  law  of  marriage.  Suppose  a  man's  wife 
is  hopelessly  insane— ought  he  to  be  allowed  to  marry  again  ? 
Ought  divorce  to  be  permitted  in  any  case  ?  These  questions 
will  be  discussed  in  a  very  different  spirit,  though  it  is  pos- 
sible that  they  might  be  answered  in  the  same  way,  by  per- 
sons who  do  and  by  persons  who  do  not  believe  in  sacra- 
ments, and  that  marriage  is  a  sacrament. 

Now  let  us  suppose  for  the  sake  of  argument  that  it  could 
be  shown  that  if  all  theological  considerations  were  set  aside, 
it  would  be  desirable  that  a  person  dying  of  cancer  should  be 
permitted  to  commit  suicide,  and  that  a  man  whose  wife  was 
incurably  mad  should  be  allowed  to  marry  again ;  and  that  on 
the  other  hand,  if  theological  considerations  were  taken  into 
account,  the  opposite  was  desirable.     Upon  these  supposi- 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  jfit 

tions  the  question  whether  the  theological  beliefs  which 
make  the  difference  are  beneficial  or  not  will  depend  on  the 
question  whether  they  are  true  or  not.  Applied  generally, 
this  shows  that  the  support  which  an  existing  creed  gives  to 
an  existing  system  of  morals  is  irrelevant  to  its  truth,  and 
that  the  queslion  whether  a  given  system  of  morals  is  good  or 
bad  cannot  be  fully  determined  until  after  the  determina- 
tion of  the  question  whether  the  theology  on  which  it  rests 
is  true  or  false.  The  morality  is  good  if  it  is  founded  on  a 
true  estimate  of  the  consequences  of  human  actions.  But  if 
it  is  founded  on  a  false  theology,  it  is  founded  on  a 
false  estimate  of  the  consequences  of  human  actions  ;  and, 
so  far  as  that  is  the  case,  it  cannot  be  good  ;  and  the  circum- 
stance that  it  is  supported  by  the  theology  to  which  it  refers 
is  an  argument  against,  and  not  in  favor  of,  that  theology. 

LORD  SELBORNE. 

I  begin  by  observing  that  (putting  special  cases  aside,  and 
looking  at  the  question  in  a  general  way)  morality  has  not 
flourished,  amongst  either  civilised  or  uncivilised  men,  when 
religious  belief  has  been  generally  lost,  or  utterly  debased. 
Not  to  dwell  upon  the  case  of  savage  races,  the  modern  Hin- 
doos and  Chinese  have  long  been  civilised,  but  are  certainly 
not  moral ;  nor  can  anything  worse  be  conceived  than  the 
moralit}''  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  at  the  height  of  their 
civilisation.  The  morality  of  the  Romans,  in  the  old  repub- 
lican times  when  they  knew  nothing  of  Greek  philosophy,  was 

praised  by  Polybius,  who  connected  it  directly,  and  emphati- 

II 


1 62  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

cally,  with  the  influence  among  them  of  religious  belief.  After 
their  intellectual  cultivation  had  taken  its  tone  from  the  irre- 
ligious or  agnostic  materialism  of  Epicurus  (hardly  dis- 
tinguishable, I  think,  from  that  sort  of  philosophy  which  some 
persons  think  destined  to  supplant  religious  belief  in  the  pres- 
ent day),  their  morality  became  what  is  described  in  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  and  in  the  Satires  of 
Juvenal ;  nor  does  it  seem  to  have  been  worse  than  that  of 
the  other  civilised  races  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
over  whom,  at  the  same  time,  religion  had  equally  lost  its  in- 
fluence. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  to  me  certain,  as  an  historical 
fact,  that  the  place  which  the  principles  of  love  and  benevo- 
lence, humility  and  self-abnegation,  have  assumed  in  the 
morality  of  the  Christian  nations  (with  a  wide-spreading  in- 
fluence which  has  been  advancing  till  the  present  time  with 
the  growth  of  civilisation)  is  specifically  due  to  Christianity. 
To  Christianity  are  specifically  due  (i)  our  respect  for  human 
life,  which  condemns  suicide,  infanticide,  political  assassina- 
tion, and  I  might  almost  say  homicide  generally,  in  a  way 
previously  unknown,  and  still  unknown  where  Christianity 
does  not  prevail ;  (2)  our  recognition  of  such  moral  and  spirit- 
ual relations  between  man  and  man  as  are  inconsistent  with 
the  degradation  of  women,  and  with  the  practice  of  slavery  ; 
(3)  our  reverence  for  the  bond  of  marriage  ;  and  (4)  our  abhor- 
rence of  some  particular  forms  of  vice.  I  do  not  mean  to 
deny  that  traces  of  a  state  of  opinion,  more  or  less  similar 
upon  some  of  these  points,  are  discoverable  in  what  we  know 
of  the  manners  of  some  non-Christian  nations  :  but  it  is  his- 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM."  163 

torically  true  to  say,  that  the  prevalence  of  each  of  these 
principles,  as  manifested  amongst  ourselves,  is  specifically 
due  to  Christianity.  Of  Christianity  I  speak  in  a  sense 
inclusive  of  all  that  it  derives  from  the  antecedent  Jewish 
system ;  of  which  it  claims  to  be  the  true  continuation  and 
development. 

If  freedom  of  inquiry  is  not  to  be  stopped,  after  the  rejec- 
tion of  religious  belief,  it  must  gradually  extend  itself  to  the 
whole  circle  of  morality :  most,  if  not  all,  of  which  is  as  little 
capable  of  demonstrative  proof  through  the  evidence  of  the 
senses  as  any  of  the  doctrines  of  religion.  Those  who  reject 
religion  will  not  voluntarily  submit  to  moral  restraints  founded 
upon  the  religion  which  they  reject,  unless  they  can  be  placed 
upon  some  other  intellectual  basis,  sufficiently  cogent  to 
themselves  to  resist  the  attractions  of  appetite  or  self-in- 
terest. That  large  part  of  mankind  who  are  always  too  much 
under  the  government  of  their  inclinations  and  passions  will 
be  quicker  in  drawing  moral  corollaries  from  irreligious  prin- 
ciples than  the  philosophers  by  whom  those  principles  are 
propounded  ;  and  the  advanced  posts  of  morality,  in  which 
the  influence  of  religion  culminates,  and  of  which  the  neces- 
sity may  not  be  so  evident  on  natural  or  social  grounds,  are 
not  likely  to  be  very  strenuously  defended  by  those  philoso- 
phers themselves. 

If  the  religious  foundations  and  sanctions  of  morality  are 
given  up,  what  is  to  be  substituted  for  them  ? 

First ;  will  the  modern  notion  of  a  duty  to  act  so  as  may 
conduce  to  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number  of 
men  be  sufficient  ?   I  think,  certainly  not.     The  idea  of  duty  is 


164  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

not,  to  my  niind,  practical  or  intelligible  without  religious 
conceptions ;  and  this  particular  conception  of  duty  depends 
entirely  upon  a  test  extrinsic,  and  not  personal,  to  the  individ- 
ual— a  test  too,  which  it  is  difficult  (not  to  say  impossible) 
for  each  individual  to  verify  for  himself ;  though  it  may  be 
verified,  to  their  own  satisfaction,  by  philosophical  students  of 
casuistry  or  political  economy.  Those  motives  are  of  neces- 
sity strongest  which  directly  concern  the  man  himself  :  and  a 
moral  principle  which  attempts  to  counteract  influences 
operating  directly  and  immediately  upon  the  will  by  others 
which  are  speculative  and  remote,  without  any  higher  sanc- 
tions realised  by  and  reacting  upon  the  individual,  must 
necessarily  be  weak. 

But,  secondly  ;  will  this  idea  be  sufficient,  if  so  modified 
as  to  present  to  the  man  the  pursuit  of  his  own  happiness  in 
this  world  as  the  rule  of  life,  but  teach  him  to  discover  it  by 
observing  and  doing  those  things  which  most  conduce  to  the 
happiness  of  men  in  general  ?  In  this  form  it  is  older 
and  more  plausible  ;  but  the  difficulties  of  making  it  practical 
are  really  very  much  the  same.  This  doctrine,  as  Aristotle 
observes,  depends  upon  a  general  induction  :  it  deals  only 
with  general  truths,  and  general  conclusions,  to  which  there 
are  many  apparent  and  (if  there  was  no  law  of  moral  retribu- 
tion and  adjustment  behind)  many  real  exceptions.  The 
foundations  of  a  man's  moral  character  and  habits  must 
be  laid  in  his  youth :  when  (as  Aristotle  also  says)  he  is  inex- 
perienced, naturally  inclined  to  follow  his  passions,  and  not 
predisposed  to  accept  the  disquisitions  of  philosophers  as 
proof  that  his  own  happiness  will  not  be  promoted  by  seeking 


A  MODERN  "  S  YMPGSIUM. "  165 

it  in  his  own  waj'.  The  temperament  most  likely  to  act  con- 
sciously on  such  a  rule  of  life  is  not  the  most  generous ;  it  is 
rather  that  which  is  cold  and  calculating,  and  which  values 
the  reputation  more  than  the  reality  of  virtue.  Upon 
such  men,  at  the  best,  its  influence  is  to  establish  a  low 
standard  of  virtue  ;  perhaps  only  to  check  and  impose  limits 
on  their  tendencies  to  vice.  Over  others  it  can  have  little  or 
no  power,  except  when  operating  in  combination  with,  and 
subordination  to  higher  principles. 

Not  only  did  the  ethical  systems  of  the  ancients  which 
were  based  upon  this  principle  fail  to  make  men  moral,  but 
we  see  its  impotence  constantly  exemplified  amongst  those 
whom  we  call  **  men  of  the  world  " — a  class  of  persons  who 
are  by  no  means  indifferent  to  their  own  happiness,  or  to  the 
good  opinion  of  the  world,  but  by  whom  the  influence  of  relig- 
ious belief  is  not  practically  felt ; — exemplified,  too,  on 
points  of  morality  of  which  the  reasonableness  seems  most 
manifest.  There  are  no  virtues,  I  suppose,  which  can  more 
readily  be  shown  to  be  conducive  to  happiness,  whether  par- 
ticular or  general,  than  that  which  the  Greeks  called 
iyy-paztia,  and  that  of  benevolence.  What  can  be  more  con- 
trary, to  both  at  once  of  these,  than  the  irregular  indulgence 
of  sensual  appetite  at  the  cost  of  the  permanent  degradation, 
and  almost  certain  miser)',  of  human  beings  who  are  its 
instruments  and  victims,  and  of  innumerable  physical  as  well 
as  moral  evils  to  individuals,  families,  and  mankind  at  large  ? 
Yet  how  very  common  is  this  sort  of  immorality  even  among 
cultivated  men,  living  on  good  terms  with  society  !  How  little 
it  is  reproved,  how  seldom  restrained,  except  by  the  authority, 


,66  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

or  through  the  influence,  direct  or  indirect,  of  religion  !  All 
readers  of  Horace  remember  the  sententia  dia  Catonis,  and  I 
doubt  whether  non-religious  opinion  among  ourselves  is  much 
stricter  on  this  subject,  though  it  may  be  less  freely 
expressed.  If  it  is  otherwise  as  to  some  of  the  more  abnormal 
forms  of  ay.pa<rta,  I  have  already  said  that  this  is  specifically 
due  to  Christianity.  The  cultivated  Greeks  and  Romans 
spoke  and  wrote  lightly  and  familiarly  of  vices  of  which  we 
do  not  speak  at  all :  they  regarded  them,  indeed,  as  effemi- 
nate, but  not  as  infamous,  and  certainly  did  not  visit 
them  with  grave  social  penalties.  So  tainted  was  their 
moral  atmosphere,  that  even  such  really  religious  men  among 
them  as  Socrates  and  Plato  (to  whom,  however,  a  religion 
teaching  morals  with  definiteness  and  authority  was  unknown) 
surprise  us  by  their  want  of  sensitiveness  on  these  points,  as 
manifested  in  some  passages  of  the  Socratic  Dialogues. 

I  will  next  inquire  whether  a  sufficient  rule  of  morality  is 
to  be  found,  when  religion  is  set  aside,  in  any  law  of 
our  nature  ; — first,  regarding  the  constitution  of  our  nature 
apart  from — and,  secondly,  taking  into  account — the  exist- 
ence in  it  of  a  moral  instinct  or  sense. 

If  any  one  calls  the  application  of  right  reason  to  human 
conduct  generally,  a  law  of  our  nature,  from  which  such 
a  rule  is  to  be  derived,  without  taking  into  account  the  moral 
sense, — this,  as  it  seems  to  me,  would  be  only  a  different  and 
more  indefinite  mode  of  expressing  substantially  the  same 
theories,  which  have  been  already  dealt  with. 

But  it  may,  perhaps,  be  suggested  that  laws  of  our  nature 
from  which  such  a  rule  may  be  derived,  are  to  be  found  in  the 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM:'  167 

final  causes  and  purposes  of  the  several  organs  and  powers 
which  exist  in  that  nature  ;  and  that  the  use  o£  any  of  those 
organs  or  powers  in  a  manner  aberrant  from  their  proper 
causes  and  purposes  is  a  breach  of  natural  morality.  I  do 
net  pause  to  inquire  whether  the  idea  of  **  cause  "  and  "  pur- 
pose," which  is  involved  in  such  a  view,  can  be  verified  apart 
from  religion.  But  such  a  rule  would,  at  best,  be  far  from 
coextensive  with  the  whole  field  of  morality  :  some  most 
necessary  parts  of  a  moral  code  (such  e.g.  as  the  regulation  of 
the  relations  between  the  sexes)  being  incapable  of  being 
deduced,  with  any  approach  to  certainty,  from  the  mere 
constitution  of  our  nature.  As  to  some  of  our  faculties,  the 
determination,  with  sufficient  accuracy  to  furnish  a  rule  of 
life,  of  their  final  causes  and  purposes,  might  involve  difficult 
philosophical  inquiries.  As  to  others,  though  there  might  be 
no  such  difficulty,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  we  have  a 
complex  nature,  in  which  the  forces  which  operate,  either 
mechanically  or  in  a  way  resembling  the  mechanical,  upon  the 
will  are  constantly  in  practical  antagonism  to  the  regulative 
faculty.  The  faculties  of  which  the  final  causes  are  most 
obvious  exist,  not  apart  from,  but  in  combination  with,  other 
elements  of  our  nature  which  (either  generally  or  often)  result 
in  tendencies  to  their  use  without  any  direct  view  to  the  fulfil- 
ment of  their  proper  purposes.  The  gratification  of  some  of 
those  tendencies  (such  e.g.  as  eating  and  drinking  for  the 
mere  pleasure  of  taste,  and  not  for  nourishment)  can  hardly 
be  condemned  as  immoral,  on  natural  grounds,  unless  carried 
so  far  as  to  overpower  reason,  or  impair  strength  or  health. 
When  it  is  carried  to  that  excess  (as  in  the  case  of  intern- 


l68  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

perance),  it  is  still  true  that  the  origin  of  the  vice  has  been  in 
the  natural  constitution  of  men's  bodies,  by  which  a  sensible 
gratification  has  been  found  in  its  indulgence  :  which  (as 
it  seems  to  me)  goes  far  to  prove  that  this  conception 
of  a  physical  law  cannot  be  relied  upon,  even  in  the  cases  to 
which  it  is  most  directly  applicable,  as  a  practical  basis 
of  morality — a  view  of  which  is  confirmed  by  the  actual  prev- 
alence among  men  of  that  class  of  vices,  even  when,  to  all 
natural  safeguards,  is  superadded  the  external  influence 
of  religion. 

When  we  proceed  to  take  into  account  the  moral  instinct 
or  sense,  we  come  upon  the  border-ground,  if  not  into  the 
proper  territory,  of  Religion.  To  a  man  who  believes  in  a 
moral  government  of  the  Universe,  in  the  distinctness  of  the 
Ego,  the  real  man,  from  his  bodily  organisation,  and  in  the 
doctrines  of  moral  responsibility  and  moral  adjustment  in  a 
future  state,  nothing  can  be  more  real,  nothing  more  intelligi- 
ble, than  this  moral  instinct  or  sense,  with  its  suggestions  of 
right  and  wrong,  of  duty,  guilt,  and  sin,  and  its  judicial  con- 
science. But,  if  all  these  postulates  are  denied,  what  is  then 
to  be  thought  of  this  moral  instinct  or  sense  ?  Why  is  it,  on 
that  hypothesis,  less  a  mere  accident  of  the  nervous  system, 
or  of  some  other  part  of  the  bodily  organisation,  than  the  re- 
ligious instinct,  which  is  already  supposed  to  set  aside,  as 
resting  upon  no  demonstrable  ground  ?  As  a  phenomenon, 
and  in  some  sense  a  fact,  it  exists,  just  as  the  religious  in- 
stinct does  (if  they  be  not  really  the  same)  ;  but  those  princi- 
ples of  thought  which  explain  away  the  one,  as  having  no 
proper  objective  cause,   and  as  indicative   of  no  objective 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  1 69 

truth,  may  as  easily  explain  away  the  other  also.  The  one  is 
not  more  susceptible  of  sensible  and  experimental  demonstra- 
tion than  the  other.  If  a  man  were  merely  a  higher  order  of 
the  organisation  of  matter,  homogeneous  with,  and  produced 
by  spontaneous  development  from,  inorganic  substances, 
plants,  and  inferior  animals,  and  under  no  responsibility  to 
any  moral  intelligence  greater  than  his  own,  what  reality 
would  there  be  in  the  conception  of  a  moral  law  of  obligation, 
inapplicable  to  all  other  known  forms  of  matter,  and  appli- 
cable only  to  man. 

These  questions  are  practical.  Experience,  on  the  large 
scale,  shows  that  men  who  disregard  the  religious,  cannot 
generally  be  trusted  to  pay  regard  to  the  moral,  sense.  A 
moral  sense,  not  believed  in,  can  never  supply  a  practical 
foundation  for  morality.  On  the  other  hand,  a  moral  sense, 
believed  in,  is  (in  reality)  itself  religion — possibly  inarticulate, 
but  religion  still.  Such  a  belief  cannot  exist,  without  accept- 
ing the  evidence  of  the  moral  sense  as  equally  trustworthy 
concerning  those  things  of  which  it  informs  us,  as  the  evi- 
dence of  the  bodily  sense  is  concerning  those  things  of  which 
they  inform  us.  It  is,  of  course,  only  from  the  impres- 
sions made  upon  our  own  minds  that  we  can  know  anything 
about  any  of  the  subjects,  either  of  physical,  or  of  intel- 
lectual, or  of  moral  sensation  :  their  intrinsic  nature,  ab- 
stracted from  those  impressions,  is  to  us,  in  each  case 
alike,  an  inaccessible  mystery.  But  belief  in  the  sense 
is  belief  in  the  truth  of  the  information  which  the  sense  gives 
to  us  :  that  is,  that  this  information,  if  rightly  apprehended, 
is   trustworthy,  as  far  as  it  goes ;  that  there   are   objective 


lyo  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

realities  corresponding  with  it.  The  moral  sense,  believed  in, 
is  not  merely  a  possible,  but  I  suppose  it  to  be  the  only  pos« 
sible,  human  foundation  of  morality.  An  intelligent  belief  in 
the  moral  sense  naturally  takes  the  man  beyond  himself,  to  a 
higher  source  of  his  moral  conceptions,  which  it  really  pre- 
supposes ;  and  any  truths  correlative  to  it,  which  are  either 
ascertainable  by  the  processes  of  reason,  or  capable  of  being 
otherwise  made  known,  will  naturally,  when  they  become 
known,  be  recognised,  in  their  proper  relation  to  it,  and  can- 
not be  rejected  without  doing  it  violence.  Any  such  correla- 
tive knowledge  of  the  higher  truths  (to  the  existence  of  which 
the  moral  sense  testifies,  though  it  does  not  fully  reveal  them) 
must  enlighten,  inform,  and  strengthen  it.  It  is  the  office  of 
such  knowledge  to  answer  authoritatively  those  questions,  as 
to  the  real  nature,  the  proper  work,  the  true  happiness,  the 
true  place  in  the  Universe,  of  man,  which  philosophy  has 
always  been  asking,  and  has  never,  by  itself,  been  able  to 
solve.  It  harmonises,  accounts  for,  and  enforces  by  authori- 
tative sanctions,  the  concurrent  testimonies  of  the  moral 
sense,  the  religious  instinct,  nature  interpreted  by  reason,  and 
reason  enlightened  by  experience.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
want,  and  still  more  the  rejection,  of  such  knowledge  (sup- 
posing it  to  be  attainable,  and  true)  must,  in  a  corresponding, 
degree,  obscure,  perplex,  or  discredit,  the  moral  sense. 

I  am  well  aware  that  some  who  seem  to  reject  all  dog- 
matic theolog)',  and  even  the  principles  of  natural  religion,  do 
nevertheless  live  up  to  a  high  moral  standard  ;  just  as  there 
are  too  many  others,  professing  (not  always  insincerely)  to 
believe  in  religion,  who  do  the  reverse.     The  moral  sense 


A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM.''  I^I 

never  has  been,  and  never  will  be.  extinguished  among  man- 
kind ;  and  in  all  ages  and  countries,  of  which  we  have  any 
real  historical  knowledge,  there  have  been  conspicuous  exr 
amples  of  men  who  have  made  it  their  rule  of  life.  Doubt- 
less there  have  been  many  more  who  did  so,  of  whom  we 
know  nothing  :  nor  is  it  unreasonable  to  believe  that  there 
may  be  many  such,  even  among  very  degraded  races.  But 
these  facts  do  not  invalidate  general  conclusions  as  to  the 
general  moral  tendency  of  a  decline  of  religious  belief.  Those 
examples  of  exceptional  goodness  have  not  been  sufficient  to 
prevent,  or  to  arrest,  a  progressive  deterioration  of  general 
morality,  when  the  light  of  religion  has  been  absent  or  ob- 
scured ;  and  the  best  ancient  schemes  of  philosophy,  which 
were  founded  upon  the  moral  sense,  failed  to  compete  practi- 
cally with  that  of  materialism,  which  did  all  that  was  possible 
to  destroy  it.  "  Live  while  we  may  " — "  let  us  eat  and  drink, 
for  to-morrow  we  die  " — are  natural  corollaries  from  the  doc- 
trine of  Epicurus  ;  whatever  more  refined  conceptions  that 
philosopher,  or  any  of  his  followers,  may  have  propounded. 
Such  will  ever  be  the  effect,  in  the  world  generally,  of  a  popu- 
lar disbelief  in  the. doctrines  of  immortality  and  retribution: 
not  because  the  hope  of  rewards,  or  the  fear  of  punishments, 
is  the  foundation  of  religious  morality  (which,  to  fulfil  the 
requirements  either  of  religion  or  of  the  moral  sense,  must 
ascend  much  higher),  but  because  our  nature  is  so  consti- 
tuted, that  the  destiny  of  the  individual,  for  good  or  evil,  for 
happiness  or  the  reverse,  is  inseparably  bound  up  with  the 
moral  law  of  his  being  ;  and  because  those  aids  and  defences, 
which  result  from  the  recognition  of  this  truth,  are  necessary 


172  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

for  the  ascendency  of  the  higher  over  the  lower  elements  of  our 
nature,  and  for  the  education  of  man  to  virtue.  A  boy,  whose 
mainsprings  of  right  action  are  conscience  and  love,  will  not 
endeavor  to  fulfil  the  objects  for  which  he  is  sent  to  school 
more  selfishly,  or  from  less  worthy  motives,  when  he  is  in- 
formed of  their  relation  to  his  future  life,  than  if  he  were  left 
in  ignorance  of  it;  but  the  knowledge  of  that  relation,  by  mak- 
ing him  understand  the  importance  of  the  future  as  compared 
with  the  present,  and  the  meaning  and  reasonableness  of  his 
present  duties,  may  enable  him  better  to  fulfil  them. 

All  that  has  been  said  assumes,  of  course,  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  religious  truth :  nor  is  it  possible  to  deny 
that,  if  this  could  really  be  disproved,  the  morality  founded 
upon  it  would  fail.  But  it  cannot  be  without  importance, 
whenever  the  proper  evidences  of  the  truth  of  religion  are 
considered,  to  take  into  account,  as  one  of  them,  its  relation 
to  morality :  the  certainty  that,  if  it  were  displaced,  the  sys- 
tem of  morality  now  received  among  men  would,  to  a  great 
extent,  fall  with  it ;  and  the  extreme  intellectual  difficulty  of 
maintaining  in  that  event  the  supremacy  of  the  moral  sense, 
or  placing  the  morality  of  the  future  upon  a  new  basis,  likely 
to  acquire  general  authority  among  mankind.  If  it  should  be 
suggested  that  a  sufficient  moral  code  for  practical  purposes 
niight  be  maintained  by  increasing  the  stringency  of  human 
laws  in  proportion  to  the  failure  of  religious  sanctions,  I 
should  reply,  that  the  power  of  human  laws  depends  upon 
morality,  and  not  morality  upon  human  laws ;  and  that  any 
legislation,  greatly  in  advance  of  the  moral  sentiment  of  the 
community,  would  certainly  not  be  effectual,  and  could  not 
long  be  maintained. 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  173 

It  has  been  no  part  of  my  purpose  to  enter  into  an  exam- 
ination of  any  questions  as  to  particular  doctrines  of  religion. 
I  have  throughout  used  the  word  "  religion  "  in  a  sense  ex- 
clusive of  all  systems,  usurping  that  name,  which  take  no 
cognisance  of  morality,  or  which  are  repugnant,  in  their  prac- 
tical precepts,  to  the  general  moral  sense  of  mankind  ;  and  I 
have  not  dissembled  my  belief,  that  Christianity  (regarded  in 
its  general  aspect,  with  reference  to  the  points  of  agreement 
rather  than  those  of  difference  among  Christians)  does  fulfil 
the  conditions  necessary  for  moral  efficacy.  Error,  inconsis- 
tency, incompleteness,  or  admixture  of  foreign  elements,  in 
particular  modes  of  apprehending  or  representing  it,  must,  no 
doubt,  as  far  as  they  prevail,  and  in  proportion  to  their 
importance,  detract  from  the  authority,  or  deteriorate  the 
quality,  of  its  influence.  So  also  must  the  mere  fact  of  dis- 
agreement. But,  notwithstanding  all  these  drawbacks,  Chris- 
tianity is  the  great  moral  power  of  the  world.  It  has  often 
been  supposed  to  be  declining,  but  has,  as  often,  renewed  its 
strength  ;  nor  has  any  other  power  been  found  to  take  its 
place,  where  it  has  seemed  to  lose  ground.  As  to  other 
forms  of  religion,  it  may,  without  difficulty,  be  admitted,  that 
such  elements  as  they  have  in  common  with  Christianity  may 
be  expected  (except  so  far  as  they  are  neutralised  or  coun- 
teracted by  other  contrary  elements)  to  tend  in  their  measure 
towards  the  same  standard  of  morality.  It  is  proper  (as  I 
suppose)  to  Christianity,  rightly  understood,  to  assert  the 
identity  of  its  own  essential  principles  with  those  of  natural 
religion,  while  teaching  that  the  moral  government  of  the 
world  has  been  so  conducted  as  not  to  leave  mankind  depen- 


174  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

dent  upon  natural  religion  only ;  and  it  refers  to  a  common 
origin  with  itself  all  the  elements  of  religious  belief,  consis- 
tent with  its  own  doctrines,  which  have  been,  at  any  time  or 
place,  accepted  among  the  nations  of  the  world.  These 
propositions,  and  also  that  of  the  presence  of  the  religious 
principle  in  any  practical  belief  of  the  moral  sense,  appear  to 
be  in  accordance  with  what  is  said  by  St.  Paul  in  the  19th 
and  20th  verses  of  the  first,  and  the  14th  and  15th  verses  of 
the  second,  chapters  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans. 

REV.  DR.  MARTINEAU. 

In  order  to  estimate  aright  tne  moral  influence  of  declin- 
ing religious  belief,  the  relation  between  morals  and  religion 
must  be  accurately  conceived.  They  may  be  regarded  as 
independent,  or  as  identical,  or,  again,  either  may  be  taken 
to  be  the  foundation  of  the  other.  The  following  positions 
will  serve  as  a  sufficient  ground  for  the  opinion  which  I  shall 
oflfer. 

A  sense  of  duty  is  inherent  in  the  constitution  of  our 
nature,  and  cannot  be  escaped  till  we  can  escape  from  our- 
selves. It  does  not  wait  on  any  ontological  conditions,  and 
incur  the  risk  of  non-existence  should  no  assurance  be 
gained  with  regard  to  a  being  and  a  life  beyond  us.  Even 
though  we  came  out  of  nothing,  and  returned  to  nothing,  we 
should  be  subject  to  the  claim  of  righteouness  so  long  as  we 
are  what  we  are.  Morals  have  their  own  base,  and  are  second 
to  nothing. 

Apart  from  this  intrinsic  consciousness  of  ethical  distinc- 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUMS  1 75 

tions,  no  ontological  discoveries  would  avail  to  set  up  a  law 
of  duty,  and  give  us  the  characteristics  of  moral  beings.  A 
Supreme  Power  might  dictate  an  external  rule,  and  break  us 
in  to  obedience  by  hopes  and  fears  of  unlimited  extent.  But 
by  this  sway  of  preponderant  interests  we  are  not  carried  be- 
yond prudence  ;  and  in  the  absence  of  a  law  within,  respond- 
ing to  the  demands  from  without,  we  do  not  reach  the 
confines  of  moral  obligation ;  and,  in  case  of  failure,  we  incur 
the  sense  only  of  error,  not  of  sin.  Theology  cannot  supply 
a  base  for  morals  that  have  lost  their  own. 

Does  it  follow  that  because  morals  are  indigenous,  they 
are  therefore  self-sufficing  ?  By  no  means.  Though  religion 
is  not  their  foundation,  it  is  assuredly  their  crown — related  to 
them  as  Plato  says  dialectic  is  to  the  sciences,  war.tp  Opiy/.o^ 
ruTq  imOr,!Laav/  ^ — the  coping  that  consummates  them.  Be  the 
genesis  of  the  conscience  what  it  may,  we  learn  from  it  at 
last  that  there  is  a  better  and  a  worse  in  the  springs  of  action 
which  contend  for  us ;  and  that,  whilst  it  is  open  to  us  as  a 
possibility,  it  is  closed  against  us  as  a  right,  to  follow  the 
lower  when  the  higher  calls.  The  authority  which  stamps  the 
one  as  a  temptation,  and  the  other  as  a  peremptory  claim,  is 
not,  we  are  well  aware,  of  our  own  making  ;  for  it  masters  us 
with  compunction,  and  defies  all  repeal.  Nor  is  it  the  mere 
expression  of  public  self-interest ;  for  it  extends  beyond  the 
range  of  social  action,  and  covers  the  whole  voluntary  field. 
Speaking  with  a  voice  before  which  our  whole  personality 
bows,  and  which  equally  gives  law  to  other  men,  it  issues 
from  a  source  transcending  human  life,  and  infusing  into  it 
"^Rep.  vii.  534  E. 


lyfi  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

a  moral  order  from  a  more  comprehensive  sphere.  It  postu- 
lates a  superior  will  in  communion  with  ours,  and  adminis- 
tering this  world  as  a  school  of  character. 

To  this  result  our  moral  experience  naturally  runs  up,  and 
stops  short  of  it  only  where  its  course  is  artificially  arrested. 
Till  it  is  reached,  the  ethical  demands  upon  us  seem  to 
address  us  in  tones  too  portentous  for  their  immediate 
significance ;  remorse  clings  to  us  with  a  tenacity,  aspiration 
returns  upon  us  with  a  power,  which  reason  cannot  ade- 
quately justify.  But  in  the  presence  of  an  objective  moral  law 
pervading  the  universe,  administered  by  a  Mind  wherein  it 
perfectly  lives,  and  continued  for  man  beyond  his  present 
term  of  years,  the  scale  of  the  ethical  passions,  and  the  in- 
tensity of  admiration  and  reverence  for  the  good,  fall  into 
proportionate  place,  and  escape  the  irony  of  being  at  once  the 
ultimate  nobleness  and  the  supreme  extravagance  of  our 
nature.  Religion,  on  this,  side,  is  but  the  open  blossom  of 
the  moral  germs  implanted  within  us — the  explicit  form,  de- 
veloped in  thought,  of  faiths  implicitly  contained  in  the  sense 
of  responsibility  and  the  forebodings  of  guilt.  Its  effect, 
therefore,  is  to  suffuse  with  a  divine  light  relations  and 
duties  which  before  were  simply  personal  and  social. 

A  similar  transfiguration  befalls  the  pleasures  and  pains 
attending  voluntary  conduct,  and  constituting  its  natural 
"sanctions."  Treated  as  ultimate  facts,  they  can  never 
acquire  more  than  a  prudential  significance.  Treated  as 
symbolical  lineaments  of  a  world  under  moral  government 
they  are  invested  with  an  expression  of  character,  and  look 
into  us  with  living  eyes.     Their  appeal  alights  no  longer  on 


A  MODERN'  "  symposium:'  177 

self-regarding  hope  and  fear,  but  on  the  springs  of  sympathy 
and  shame  : — they  pass  from  sensitive  to  ethical  phenomena. 
The  new  and  ideal  meaning  thus  given  to  a  large  portion  of 
actual  human  experience  cannot  pause  there  ;  it  completes 
itself  in  the  congenial  anticipation  of  a  further  and  invisible 
store  of  awards  consummating  the  incipient  justice  of  this 
world.  The  faith  in  a  future  life — where  it  is  more  than  a 
belief  at  second  hand — ^lias  its  sheet-anchor  in  the  moral 
affections.  But  for  the  felt  interval  between  what  we  are  and 
what  we  ought  to  be,  for  the  indignation  at  wrong,  for  com- 
passion towards  innocent  suffering,  and  reverence  for  high 
excellence,  vaticinations  of  renewed  existence  would  have  no 
origin  and  no  support. 

In  assigning  this  method  of  growth  to  religion,  I  do  not 
mean  to  deny  that  it  may  have  other  lines  of  formation.  The 
nature-worship  which  plays  so  great  a  part  in  ancient  civil- 
isation has  a  different  history,  and  stands  in  much  less  inti- 
mate relations  with  the  moral  life  of  its  votaries.  We  pay,  I 
am  disposed  to  think,  too  great  a  compliment  to  the  Greek 
mythology  when  we  attribute  the  ethical  decay  of  later 
Athens  and  Corinth  to  the  growing  skepticism  about  its  gods. 
The  public  life  was  dead.  The  theatre  of  great  passion  and 
great  action  was  closed.  The  calls  for  sacrifice,  the  oppor- 
tunities for  national  expansion,  were  gone,  and  the  political 
school  for  the  discipline  of  character  was  no  longer  there. 
With  the  loss  of  a  progressive  history,  the  springs  of  heroic 
emulation  suffered  atrophy,  a  sickly  hue  passed  over  litera- 
ture, philosophy,  and  art ;  and  the  subsidence  of  human 
loves  and   cares  upon  low  Epicurean  levels  was  inevitable 


1 78  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

though  the  Olympian  deities  had  never  been  dethroned.  In 
the  absence  of  any  moral  religion,  no  efficacious  resistance 
could  be  set  up,  with  or  without  a  pantheistic  polytheism, 
against  the  canker  of  social  degeneracy. 

In  dealing  with  the  present  problem,  however,  we  conffhe 
our  attention  to  the  Christian  type  of  religion,  which  has  its 
hold  upon  our  nature  from  the  moral  side.  The  question  is, 
■what  practical  effect  might  be  expected  from  a  decay  of  that 
religion. 

Under  that  change  morality  would  lose,  not  its  base,  but 
its  summit.  The  ground  and  principles  of  duty  would  re- 
main ;  the  means  for  deducing  rules  of  action,  estimating  the 
worth  of  conflicting  impulses,  and  measuring  the  grades  of 
obligation,  would  in  the  main  be  unaffected ;  so  that  the 
moral  code  which  would  emerge  from  the  labors  of  a  mere 
philosopher  need  not  materially  differ  from  that  recognized 
by  a  Christian.  This  is  only  an  inverse  method  of  saying 
that  the  Christian  ethics  are  true  to  human  life  and  the  ex- 
pression of  right  reason.  I  do  not  think,  therefore,  that  the 
form  and  contents  of  a  moral  system  would  be  essentially  mod- 
ified by  the  decline  of  religious  belief.  It  may,  no  doubt, 
happen  that  particular  problems  of  conduct,  as  in  the  case 
of  suicide  and  of  marriage,  have  become  the  subjects  of  ec- 
clesiastical legislation,  and  so  have  passed  into  preoccupation 
of  religious  feeling,  and,  on  the  disappearance  of  that  feeling, 
may  be  flung  back  into  an  indeterminate  condition.  But  to  the 
real  solution  of  such  problems  it  would  be  difficult  to  show 
that  religion  contributes  any  new  elements,  so  as  to  turn  into 
duty  that  which  was  not  duty  before.     Its  ministers  and 


A  MODERN  "  S  YMPOSIUM."  1 7^ 

temporary  interpreters  can  give  an  historical  consecration  to 
all  sorts  of  ungrounded  opinions,  and  these  will  in  any  case 
have  to  look  out  for  an  adequate  base,  whether  or  not  the 
religious  view  of  life  is  still  upheld.  But  it  is  quite  possible 
that  a  rule  of  life,  once  thoughtfully  constituted,  should  be  ac- 
knowledged in  common  over  the  whole  range  of  social  duty  by 
persons  simply  ethical  and  by  those  who  are  also  religious. 

But  though  the  decay  of  religion  may  leave  the  institutes 
of  morality  intact,  it  drains  off  their  inward  power.  The  de- 
vout faith  of  men  expresses  and  measures  the  intensity  of 
their  moral  nature,  and  it  cannot  be  lost  without  a  remission  of 
enthusiasm  and,  under  this  low  pressure,  and  successful  reen- 
trance  of  the  importunate  desires  and  clamorous  passions  which 
had  been  driven  back.  To  believe  in  an  ever-living  and  per- 
fect Mind,  supreme  over  the  universe,  is  to  invest  moral 
distinctions  with  immensity  and  eternity,  and  lift  them  from 
the  provincial  stage  of  human  society  to  the  imperishable 
theatre  of  all  being.  When  planted  thus  in  the  very  sub- 
Stance  of  things,  they  justify  and  support  the  ideal  estimates 
of  the  conscience  ;  they  deepen  every  guilty  shame  ;  they 
guarantee  every  righteous  hope  ;  and  they  help  the  will  with 
a  divine  casting-vote  in  every  balance  of  temptation.  The 
sanctity  thus  given  to  the  claims  of  duty,  and  the  interest  that 
gathers  around  the  play  of  character,  appear  to  me  more  im- 
portant elements  in  the  power  of  religion  than  its  direct  sanc- 
tions of  hope  and  fear.  Yet  to  these  also  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  deny  great  weight,  not  only  as  extending  the  range  of  per- 
sonal interests,  but  as  the  answer  of  reality  to  the  retributory 
verdicts  of  the  moral  sense.  Cancel  these  beliefs,  and  morality 


i8o  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

will  be  left  reasonable  still,  but  paralysed ;  possible  to  tem- 
peraments comparatively  passionless,  but  with  no  grasp  on 
vehement  and  poetic  natures  ;  and  gravitating  towards  the 
simply  prudential  wherever  it  maintains  its  ground. 

Historical  experience  appears  to  confirm  this  estimate.  In 
no  race  (notwithstanding  conspicuous  individual  exceptions) 
have  the  excesses  of  sensual  passion  been  so  kept  in  check  as 
among  the  Jews.  There  is  no  more  striking  feature  in  their 
literature  during  the  moral  declension  of  Greek  and  Roman 
society  {e.g.  in  the  Sibylline  Oracles)  than  the  horror  which  it 
expresses  of  the  pervading  dissoluteness  of  the  pagan  world. 
It  certainly  cannot  be  said  that  the  problem  was  rendered 
easy  by  the  coolness  of  the  Jewish  temperament.  The  phenom- 
ena of  Christendom  present  a  more  complicated  tissue.  But 
a  just  analysis  yields,  I  believe,  the  same  result,  and  attests  the 
force  of  religious  conviction  as  the  only  successful  antagonist, 
on  any  large  scale,  of  the  animal  impulses.  True  it  is  that, 
in  the  very  presence  of  the  Church,  and  even  among  its  rep- 
resentatives, gross  vices  have  at  times  prevailed.  But  these 
have  been  hollow  times,  in  which,  with  large  classes  of  per- 
sons, the  outer  shell  of  religion  sheltered  no  sincere  life,  and 
the  private  habits  betrayed  the  inward  disintegration  which 
policy  or  indifference  concealed.  To  test  the  power  of  re- 
ligion, we  must  limit  ourselves  to  cases  where  that  power  is 
not  effete.  In  the  Puritan  families  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, among  the  present  Catholic  peasantry  of  Ireland,  through- 
out the  Society  of  Friends,  and  in  the  Wesleyan  classes,  it  can 
hardly  be  denied  that  the  control  of  irregular  desires  has  been 
attained  with  an  exceptional  ease  and  completeness. 


I 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  i8i 

One  source  of  this  distinctive  power  yet  remains  to  be  in- 
dicated. A  simply  conscientious  man  may  surrender  himself 
unreservedly  to  the  sense  of  moral  obligation,  and  be  so  pos- 
sessed by  it  as  to  feel  it  more  than  reasonable,  and  own  a  cer- 
tain sacredness  in  its  appeal.  Duty,  honour,  self-forgetfulness 
in  others'  good,  may  obtain  the  real  command  of  such  a  one. 
But  the  persuasive  force  with  which  the  right  speaks  to  him 
is  beyond  all  intellectual  measure  ;  it  stirs  him  in  depths  he 
cannot  reach  ;  its  heat  is  in  excess  of  its  light ;  it  is  something 
mystic  which  must  have  him,  but  of  which  he  can  render  no 
account.  Here,  in  truth,  is  religion  pressing  into  life,  only 
with  form  still  indistinct,  and  its  organism  of  thought  not  yet 
differentiated  and  articulate.  Let  it  complete  its  development 
and  what  change  will  ensue  ?  Once  rendered  conscious  of 
the  Supreme  Source  of  his  moral  perceptions,  the  responsible 
agent  no  longer  obeys  a  pressure  out  of  the  dark,  but  rather  a 
drawing  towards  higher  light  j  for  an  impersonal  drift  of  nature 
is  substituted  a  profound  personal  veneration,  and  enthusiasm 
turned  from  a  blind  nobleness  into  the  clear  allegiance  of 
living  affection.  It  is  not  without  reason  that  this  change  has 
been  treated  as  an  emergence  into  new  life.  Its  vast  influ- 
ence is  attested  by  the  whole  literature  of  devotion,  and  es- 
pecially by  its  most  popular  element,  the  hymns  of  every  age 
from  the  Psalter  to  the  Christian  Year. 

Though  in  theory  the  contents  of  morality  are  not  al- 
tered by  acquiring  divine  obligation,  the  efficacy  of  religion  is 
more  immediately  felt  in  some  parts  of  the  character  than  in 
others.  The  scene  to  which  it  introduces  the  mind  is  one 
which  throws  it  instantly  into  the  attitude  of  looking  up  to* 


i82  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

wards  an  Infinite  Perfection,  whose  presence  it  never  qtiits, 
and  thus  supplies  the  true  conditions  of  humility,  of  aspira- 
tion, and  of  felt  equality  of  moral  trust  for  all  men  before  God. 
These  moods  of  thought  are  specifically  induced  by  the  contact 
of  higher  excellence  and  a  more  capacious  rule  of  righteous- 
ness ;  and  they  are  but  poorly  simulated  by  the  mere  sense  of 
personal  insignificance  amid  the  immensity  of  nature,  and  the 
awe  of  the  unknown,  and  the  conscious  partnership  of  us  all 
in  the  human  liabilities.  The  moral  characteristics  of  the 
Christian  temper  are  nothing  but  the  natural  posture  of  a  mind 
standing  face  to  face  with  the  invisible  reality  of  the  highest 
ideals  of  its  conscience  and  its  love.  If  that  presence  departs, 
they  cannot  survive. 

MR.  FREDERIC  HARRISON. 

And  all  this,  to  me,  describes  the  moral  characteristics,  not 
of  the  Christian,  but  of  the  religious  temper.  With  what  has 
been  so  finely  said  in  the  preceding  discourse  we  ought,  I 
think,  most  cordially  to  join.  Only  for  the  words  "  Theology  " 
and  "  Christian  "  we  must  put  the  wider  and  more  ancient  terms 
*'  Religion"  and  "  Human  ;  "  and  again,  for  the  intrinsic  con- 
sciousness and  emotional  intuitions,  whereby  these  are  said  to 
prove  themselves,  we  must  substitute  the  reasonable  proof  of 
science,  philosophy,  and  positive  psycholog}'. 

We  have  before  us  three  distinctive  views  as  to  the  relations 
of  Religion  and  Morality.  Each  of  the  three  has  pressed 
on  us  a  very  powerful  thought.  The  reconciliation  is  ob- 
scure, yet  I  hold  on  to  the  hope  that  it  may  one  day  be  found  ; 


I 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUMr  183 

that  we  shall  have  to  surrender  neither  Religion  nor  Science, 
neither  demonstration  on  the  one  hand,  nor  Dogma,  Worship, 
and  Discipline  on  the  other;  that  we  shall  end  by  accepting 
a  purely  human  base  for  our  Morality,  and  withal  come  to  see 
our  Morality  transfigured  into  a  true  Religion. 

It  is  the  purport  of  the  first  of  the  arguments  before  us  to 
establish  :  that  morality  has  a  basis  of  its  own  quite  indepen- 
dent of  all  theology  whatever,  but  that  since  morality  must  be 
deeply  affected  by  any  theology,  the  morality  will  be  underr 
mined  if  based  on  a  theology  which  is  not  true.  We  must  all 
agree,  I  think,  to  that. 

The  second  argument  insists  that  if  the  religious  founda- 
tions and  sanctions  of  morality  be  given  up,  human  life  runs 
the  risk  of  sinking  into  depravity,  since  morality  without  re- 
ligion is  insufficient  for  general  civilisation.  For  my  part  I 
entirely  assent  to  that. 

The  third  argument  rejoins  that  Theology  cannot  sujDply 
a  base  for  morals  that  have  lost  their  own ;  but  that  morals, 
though  they  have  their  own  base,  and  are  second  to  nothing, 
are  not  adequate  to  direct  human  life  until  they  be  transfused 
into  that  sense  of  resignation,  adoration,  and  communion  with 
an  overruling  Providence  which  is  the  true  mark  of  Religion. 
I  assent  entirely  to  that. 

We,  who  follow  the  teaching  of  Comte,  humbly  look  for- 
ward to  an  ultimate  solution  of  all  such  difficulties  by  the  force 
of  one  common  principle.  That  we  acknowledge  a  religion, 
of  which  the  creed  shall  be  science  ;  of  which  the  Faith,  Hope, 
Charity,  shall  be  real,  not  transcendental,  earthly,  not  heav- 
enly—a religion,  in  a  word,  which  is  entirely  human,  in  its  evi- 


1 84  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

dences,  in  its  puiposes,  in  its  sanctions  and  appeals.  Write 
the  word  "  Religion  "  where  we  find  the  word  "Theolog)'," 
write  the  word  "  Human  "  where  we  find  the  word  **  Christian," 
or  the  word  "Theist,"  "Mussulman,"  or  "Buddhist,"  and 
these  discussions  grow  practical  and  easily  reconciled ;  the 
aspirations  and  sanctions  of  Religion  burst  open  to  us  anew 
in  greater  intensity,  v/ithout  calling  on  us  to  surrender  one 
claim  of  reality  and  humanity ;  the  realm  of  Faith  and  Adora- 
tion becomes  again  conterminous  with  Life,  without  disturb- 
ing, nay,  whilst  sanctifying,  the  invincible  resolve  of  modern 
men  to  live  in  this  world,  for  this  world,  with  their  fellow-men. 
And  this  brings  us  to  the  source  of  all  difficulties  about 
the  relations  of  Morality  and  Religion.  We  place  our  moral- 
ity— we  are  compelled  by  the  conditions  of  all  our  positive 
knowledge  to  place  it — in  a  strictly  human  world.  But  it  is 
the  mark  of  every  theology  (the  name  of  Theology  assumes  it) 
to  place  our  religion  in  a  non-human  world.  And  thus  our 
human  system  of  morals  may  possibly  be  distorted — it  can- 
not be  supported — by  a  non-human  religion.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  dwarfed  and  atrophied  for  want  of  being  duly 
expanded  into  a  truly  human  religion.  Our  morality  with  its 
human  realities,  our  theology  with  its  non-human  hypotheses, 
will  not  amalgamate.  Their  methods  are  in  conflict.  In 
their  base,  in  their  logic,  in  their  aim,  they  are  heterogene- 
ous. They  do  not  lie  in  pari  materia.  Give  us  a  religion  as 
truly  human,  as  really  scientific,  as  is  our  moral  system,  and 
all  is  harmony.  Our  morals,  based  as  they  must  be  on  our 
knowledge  of  Life  and  of  Society,  are  then  ordered  and  in- 
spired by  a  religion  which  belongs,  just  as  truly  as  our  moral 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  185 

science  does,  to  the  world  of  science  and  of  man.  And  then 
religion  will  be  no  longer  that  quicksand  of  Possibility  which 
two  thousand  years  of  debate  have  still  left  it  to  so  many  of 
us.  It  becomes  at  last  the  issue  of  our  knowledge,  the  mean- 
ing of  our  science,  the  soul  of  our  morality,  the  ideal  of  our 
imagination,  the  fulfilment  of  our  aspirations,  the  lawgiver,  in 
short,  of  our  whole  lives.  Can  it  ever  be  this  whilst  we  still 
pursue  Religion  into  the  bubble  world  of  the  Whence  and 
the  Whither  1 

That  morality  is  dependent  on  theology  ;  that  morality  is 
independent  of  religion :  each  of  these  views  presents  in- 
superable difficulties,  and  brings  us  to  an  alternative  from 
which  we  recoil.  To  assert  that  there  is  no  morality  but 
what  is  based  on  Theology  is  to  assert  what  experience,  his- 
tory, and  philosophy  flatly  contradict,  nay  that  which  revolts 
the  conscience  of  all  manly  purpose  within  us.  History 
teaches  us  that  some  of  the  best  types  of  morality,  in  men 
and  in  races,  have  been  found  apart  from  anything  that  Chris- 
tians can  call  theology  at  all.  Morality  has  been  advancing 
for  centuries  in  modern  Europe,  whilst  theology,  at  least  in 
authority,  has  been  visibly  declining.  The  morality  of  Con- 
fucius and  of  Sakya  Mouni,  of  Socrates  and  Marcus  Aurelius, 
of  Vauvenargues,  Turgot,  Condorcet,  Hume,  was  entirely 
independent  of  any  theology.  The  moral  system  of  Aristotle 
was  framed  without  any  view  to  theology,  as  completely  as 
that  of  Comte  or  of  our  recent  moralists.  We  have  ex- 
perience of  men  with  the  loftiest  ideal  of  life  and  of  strict 
fidelity  to  their  ideal,  who  expressly  repudiate  theology,  and 
of  many  more  whom  theology  never  touched.     Lastly,  ther^ 


1 8  6  Q  UESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. . 

is  a  spirit  \\'itliin  us  which  will  not  believe  that  to  know  and 
to  do  the  right,  we  must  wait  until  the  mysteries  of  existence 
and  the  universe  are  resolved,  its  origin,  its  government,  and 
its  future.  To  make  right  conduct  a  corollary  of  a  theological 
creed,  is  not  only  contrary  to  fact,  but  shocking  to  our  self- 
respect.  We  know  that  the  just  spirit  can  find  the  right  path, 
even  whilst  the  judgment  hangs  bewildered  amidst  the 
Churches. 

To  hold,  as  would  seem  to  require  of  us  the  second  argu- 
ment, that,  though  theology  is  necessary  as  a  base  for  moral- 
ity, yet  almost  any  theology  will  suffice — Polytheist,  Mussul- 
man, or  Deist — so  long  as  some  imaginary  being  is  pos-' 
tulated,  this  is  indeed  to  reduce  theology  to  a  minimum ; 
since,  in  this  case,  it  does  not  seem  to  matter  in  which  God 
you  may  believe.  To  say  that  morality  is  dependent  on  one 
particular  theology,  is  to  deny  that  men  are  moral  outside 
your  peculiar  orthodoxy ;  to  say  that  morality  is  dependent 
merely  on  some  form  of  theology,  is  to  say  that  it  matters 
little  to  practical  virtue  which  of  a  hundred  creeds  you  may 
profess.  And  when  we  shrink  from  the  arrogance  of  the  first 
and  the  looseness  of  the  second  position,  we  have  no  alter- 
native but  to  admit  that  our  morality  must  have  a  human, 
and  not  a  superhuman,  base. 

It  does  not  follow  that  morality  can  suffice  for  life  without 
religion.  Morality,  if  we  mean  by  that  the  science  of  duty, 
after  all,  can  supply  us  only  with  a  knowledge  of  what  we 
should  do.  Of  itself  it  can  neither  touch  the  imagination, 
nor  satisfy  the  thirst  of  knowledge,  nor  order  the  emotions. 
It  tells  us  of  human  duty,  but  nothing  of  the  world  without 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  ig^ 

US  ;  it  prescribes  to  us  our  duties,  but  it  does  not  kindle  the 
feelings  which  are  the  impulse  to  duty.  Morality  has  nothing 
to  tell  us  of  a  paramount  Power  outside  of  us,  to  struggle 
with  which  is  confusion  and  annihilation,  to  work  with  which 
is  happiness  and  strength  ;  it  has  nothing  to  teach  us  of  a 
communion  with  a  great  Goodness,  nor  does  it  touch  the 
chords  of  Veneration,  Sympathy,  and  Love  within  us. 
Morality  does  not  profess  to  organise  our  knowledge  and 
give  S3anmetry  to  life.  It  does  not  deal  with  Beauty,  Affec- 
tion, Adoration.  If  it  order  conduct,  it  does  not  correlate 
this  conduct  with  the  sum  of  our  knowledge,  or  with  the 
ideals  of  our  imagination,  or  with  the  deepest  of  our  emotions. 
To  do  all  this  is  the  part  of  Religion,  not  of  morality  ;  and 
inasmuch  as  the  sphere  of  this  function  is  both  wider  and 
higher,  so  does  Religion  transcend  Morality.  Morality  has 
to  do  with  conduct,  Religion  with  life.  The  first  is  the  code 
of  a  part  of  human  nature,  the  second  gives  its  harmony  to 
the  whole  of  human  nature.  And  morality  can  no  more  suf- 
fice for  life  than  a  just  character  would  suffice  for  any  one  of 
us  without  intellect,  imagination,  or  affection,  and  the  power 
of  fusing  all  these  into  the  unity  of  a  man. 

The  lesson,  I  think,  is  twofold.  On  the  one  hand,  mor* 
ality  is  independent  of  theology,  is  superior  to  it,  is  growing 
whilst  theology  is  declining,  is  steadfast  whilst  theology  is 
shifting,  unites  men  whilst  theology  separates  them,  and  does 
its  work  when  theology  disappears.  There  is  something  like 
a  civilised  morality,  a  standard  of  morality,  a  convergence 
about  morality.  There  is  no  civilised  theology,  no  standard 
of  theology,  no  convergence  about  it.     On  the  other  hand, 


l88  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

morality  will  never  suffice  for  life ;  and  every  attempt  to 
base  our  existence  on  morality  alone,  or  to  crown  our  ex- 
istence with  morality  alone,  must  certainly  fail.  For  this  is  to 
fling  away  the  most  powerful  motives  of  human  nature.  To 
reach  these  is  the  privilege  of  Religion  alone.  And  those 
who  trust  that  the  Future  can  ever  be  built  upon  science  and 
civilisation,  without  religion,  are  attempting  to  build  a 
Pyramid  of  bricks  without  straw.  The  solution,  we  believe, 
is  a  non-theological  religion. 

There  are  some  who  amuse  themselves  by  repeating  that 
this  is  a  contradiction  in  terms,  that  religion  implies  theology. 
Yet  no  one  refuses  the  name  of  religion  to  the  systems  of 
Confucius  and  Buddha,  though  neither  has  a  trace  of  theol- 
ogy. But  disputes  about  a  name  are  idle.  If  they  could 
debar  us  from  the  name  of  Religion,  no  one  could  disinherit 
us  of  the  thing.  We  mean  by  religion  a  scheme  which  shall 
explain  to  us  the  relations  of  the  faculties  of  the  human 
soul  within,  of  man  to  his  fellowmen  beside  him,  to  the  world 
and  its  order  around  him  ;  next,  that  which  brings  him  face 
to  face  with  a  Power  to  which  he  must  bow,  with  a  Provi- 
dence which  he  must  love  and  serve,  with  a  Being  which  he 
must  adore — that  which,  in  fine,  gives  man  a  doctrine  to  be- 
lieve, a  discipline  to  live  by,  and  an  object  to  worship.  This 
is  the  ancient  meaning  of  religion,  and  the  fact  of  religion  all 
over  the  world  in  every  age.  What  is  new  in  our  scheme  is 
merely  that  we  avoid  such  terms  as  Infinite,  Absolute,  Imma- 
terial, and  vague  negatives  altogether,  resolutely  confining 
ourselves  to  the  sphere  of  what  can  be  shown  by  experience, 
of  what  is  relative  and  not  absolute,  and  wholly  and  frankly, 
human. 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  X89 

THE  DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUL'S. 

It  seems  to  me  difficult  to  discuss  this  question  till  it  is  set- 
tled, at  least  generally,  what  morality  is  influenced,  and  what 
religious  belief  is  declining. 

The  morality  generally  acknowledged  in  Europe  differs  in 
most  important  points  from  that  of  the  Hebrews  in  the  days 
of  Moses,  of  the  Greeks  in  the  days  of  Socrates,  of  the 
Romans  under  the  Empire,  of  the  monks  of  Egypt,  of  the 
Puritans  of  the  seventeenth  century.  All  of  these  had  among 
them  high  types  of  character,  higher,  it  may  be,  than  any 
types  among  us  ;  but  who  among  us  would  accept  their  mor- 
ality as  a  whole  ?  Our  morality  has  come  to  be  recognised 
as  it  is  by  a  definite  progress  of  which  the  steps  may  be  traced. 
It  is  plain  that  one  form  of  religious  thought  and  religious  faith 
might  aid  this  progress  of  morality  by  its  decline,  and  another 
might,  by  its  decline,  impede  or  reverse  it.  On  such  a  morality 
as  we  acknowledge,  whencesoever  derived,  the  decline  of 
Buddhist  belief  or  ancient  Roman  religious  belief  might  act  as 
a  stimulus  and  a  help.  The  decline  of  another  kind  of  relig- 
ious belief  might,  on  the  other  hand,  act  most  injuriously. 

It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  that  till  the  question  is  pre-r 
sented  in  a  concrete  and  historical  form,  nothing  can  be  made 
of  it.  I  do  not  understand  the  two  terms  of  the  comparison. 
Before  I  can  attempt  to  answer  it,  I  must  know,  at  least  ap- 
proximately, what  morality  and  what  religion. 

If  by  morality  is  meant  the  morality  generally  recognised 
in  Europe  on  the  points  of  truthfulness,  honesty,  humanity, 
purity,  self-devotion,  kindness,  justice,  fellow-feeling,  and  not 


ipo  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF.    . 

only  recognised,  but  judged  by  a  conscious  superiority  of  rea- 
son and  experience  to  be  the  right  standard,  as  compared 
with  other  moralities — such  as  those  of  the  Puritans,  the  monks, 
the  Romans,  the  Hebrews — then  I  observe  that,  as  a*  matter 
of  fact  and  history,  which  to  me  seems  incontrovertible,  this 
morality  has  synchronised  in  its  growth  and  progress  with  an 
historical  religion,  viz.  Christianity.  We  are  come  to  the  end 
of  eighteen  of  the  most  eventful  and  fruitful  centuries  of  all, 
at  least,  that  are  known  to  us  ;  and  we  are  landed  in  what  we 
accept  as  a  purer  morality  than  any  which  has  been  known 
in  the  world  before,  and  one  which  admits  itself  not  to  be 
perfect,  but  contains  in  itself  principles  of  improvement  and 
self-purification.  With  this  progress  from  the  first,  some- 
times, I  quite  admit,  with  gross  and  mischievous  mistakes, 
but  always  with  deliberate  aim  and  intention  of  good,  Chris* 
tianity  has  been  associated.  And  in  proportion  as  Christian 
religious  belief  has  thrown  off  additions  not  properly  belong- 
ing to  it,  and  has  aimed  at  its  own  purification  and  at  a 
greater  grasp  of  truth,  the  standard  and  ideas  of  morality 
have  risen  with  it.  The  difficulty  at  this  moment  is  to  deter- 
mine how  much  of  our  recognised  morality,  both  directly  and 
much  more  indirectly,  has  come  from  Christianity,  and  could 
not  conceivably  have  come  at  all,  supposing  Christianity 
absent. 

I  do  not  here,  in  these  few  lines,  assume  that  in  Christian- 
ity and  its  long  association  with  human  morality  we  have  a 
vera  causa  of  its  improved  and  improving  character.  But 
with  this  immense  fact  of  human  experience  before  me, 
unique,  it  seems  to  me,  in  its  kind,  and  in  its  broad  outlines 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  ig i 

undeniable,  no  abstract  reasonings  can  reassure  me  as  to  the 
probability  that  with  the  failing  powers  of  what  has  hitherto 
been,  directly  or  indirectly,  the  source  of  much,  and  the  sup- 
port and  sanction  of  still  more,  of  our  morality,  our  morality 
will  fail  too.  It  seems  to  me  quite  as  easy  to  be  skeptical 
about  morality  as  it  is  about  religion.  If  the  religion  has  been 
proved  to  be  not  true,  then  of  course  it  is  no  use  talking  about 
the  matter.  But  if  not,  a  declining  belief  in  it  may,  with  our 
present  experience,  be  thought  at  least  by  those  who  believe 
in  it,  to  be  attacking  the  roots  of  morality,  if  not  in  our  own 
generation,  at  least  in  those  which  come  after. 

It  is  matter  of  history  that  in  what  we  now  generally  accept 
as  true  morality  there  are  two  factors  : — (i)  On  the  one 
hand,  human  experience,  human  reasonableness,  human  good 
feeling,  human  self-restraint ;  and  (2)  on  the  other,  the  be- 
lief, the  laws,  the  ideas,  the  power  of  Christianity.  It  is 
difficult  to  conceive  what  reason  there  is  to  expect  that  if  one 
factor  is  taken  away  the  result  will  continue  the  same :  that 
the  removal  or  weakening  of  such  an  important  one  as  Chris- 
tiariity  would  not  seriously  affect  such  departments  of 
morals  as  purity,  the  relations  of  the  strong  to  the  weak, 
respect  for  human  life,  slavery. 

THE  DUKE  OF  ARGYLL, 

Considering  that  these  papers  are  contributed  by  men  be- 
longing to  very  different  schools  of  thought,  and  that  they 
deal  with  a  question  very  abstract  and  very  ill  defined,  it  is 
surely  very  remarkable  that  so  much  agreement  should  emerge 
on  certain  fundamental  points. 


192  Q  UESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Most  remarkable  of  all,  in  this  respect,  is  the  paper 
emanating  from  one  of  those  who  "follow  the  teaching  of 
Comte." 

In  that  paper  I  find  the  following  propositions  : 

I.  That  morality  is  independent  of  theology ;  but 

II.  That  it  is  not  independent  of  religion,  inasmuch  as 
morality  without  religion  cannot  **  suffice  for  life." 

III.  That  religion  means  a  scheme  which  (among  other 
things)  "  brings  man  face  to  face  with  a  Power  to  which  he 
must  bow,  with  a  Providence  which  he  must  love  and  serve, 
with  a  Being  which  he  must  adore — that  which,  in  fine,  gives 
man  a  doctrine  to  believe,  a  discipline  to  live  by,  and  an  ob- 
ject to  worship." 

IV.  That  this  scheme  or  conception  of  religion  is  "  new," 
and  differs  from  mere  theology  in  the  following  distinctive 
points  : — 

(i)  That  it  avoids  certain  words  or  phrases,  such  as  "  in- 
finite," "  absolute,"  "  immaterial." 

(2)  That  it  avoids  also  all  "  vague  negatives." 

(3)  That  it  resolutely  confines  us  to  the  sphere  of  what 
can  be  shown  by  experience — "  of  what  is  relative  and  not 
absolute,"  and  "  of  what  is  wholly  and  frankly  human." 

I  will  examine  these  propositions  in  their  order. 

Proposition  I.  clearly  depends  entirely  on  what  is  meant 
by  theology,  and  on  the  distinction  which  is  drawn  in  the 
propositions  which  follow  between  theology  and  religion.  Two 
things,  however,  may  be  said  of  this  proposition  :  First,  that, 
as  a  matter  of  historical  fact,  men's  conceptions  of  moral  obli- 
gation have  been  deeply  influenced  by  their  conceptions  and 


A  MODERN  ''SYMPOSIUM."  '  193 

beliefs  about  theology,  or  about  the  "  whence  and  whither." 
Secondly,  that,  as  all  branches  of  truth  are  and  must  be 
closely  related  to  each  other,  it  cannot  possibly  be  true  that 
morality  is  independent  of  theology,  except  upon  the  assump- 
tion that  there  is  no  truth  in  any  theology.  But  this  is  an 
assumption  which  cannot  be  taken  for  granted,  being  very 
different  indeed  from  the  assumption  (which  may  be  reason- 
able) that  no  existing  theology  is  unmixed  with  error.  The 
absolute  independence  of  morality  as  regards  theology,  as- 
sumes much  more  than  this  ;  it  assumes  that  there  is  no  the- 
ology containing  even  any  important  element  of  truth. 
Proposition  II.  is,  I  think,  perfectly  true. 
Proposition  III.  contains  a  definition  of  religion  which 
might  probably  be  accepted  by  any  theological  professor  in 
any  of  our  schools  of  divinity  as  good  and  true,  if  not  in  all 
respects  adequate  or  complete. 

Proposition  IV.  defines  the  elements  in  all  theologies 
which  constitute  their  fundamental  errors,  and  which  distin- 
guish them  from  religion  as  defined  in  Proposition  III.  In 
short,  Proposition  III.  defines  affirmatively  what  religion  is ; 
and  Proposition  IV.  defines  negatively  what  it  is  not.  It  adds 
also  a  few  more  affirmative  touches  to  complete  the  picture  of 
what  it  is. 

Looking  now  at  the  erroneous  theological  elements  which 
are  to  be  thrown  away,  we  find  three  words  fixed  upon  as 
specimens  of  what  is  vicious.  One  of  them  is  **  the  Abso- 
lute." Most  heartily  do  I  wish  it  were  abolished.  More  non- 
sense has  been  talked  and  written  under  cover  of  it  than  un- 
der   cover   of  any  other   of  the  voluminous   vocabulary  of 

13 


Kj^  {QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF.   . 

iinititelligible  metaphysics.  It  is  admitted  that  the  Absolute 
is  "  unthinkable,"  and  things  which  are  unthinkable  had 
better  be  considered  as  also  unspeakable,  or  at  least  be  left 
unspoken. 

Next,  "  immaterial "  is  another  word  to  be  cast  away. 
The  worst  of  this  demand  is,  that  the  words  material  and  im- 
material express  a  distinction  of  which  we  cannot  get  rid  in 
thought.  I  do  know  that  the  pen  with  which  I  now  write  is 
made  of  that  which  to  me  is  known  as  matter ;  but  I  do  not 
know  that  the  ideas  which  are  expressed  in  this  writing  are 
made  of  any  like  substance,  nor  even  of  any  substance  like 
the  brain.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  me  that  these  ideas 
cannot  be  so  made  and  that  there  is  an  absolute  difference 
between  thought  and  the  external  substances  which  it  think? 
about.  This  may  be  my  ignorance,  but  until  that  ignorance 
is  removed  I  must  accept  those  distinctions  which  are 
founded  on  the  experience  and  observation  of  my  own  na- 
ture, and  I  must  retain  words  which  are  necessary  to  express 
them. 

Then,  as  regards  the  word  "  infinite,"  in  like  manner,  I 
cannot  dispense  with  it,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  idea  of 
infinity  is  one  of  which  I  cannot  get  rid,  and  which  all  science 
teaches  me  is  an  idea  inseparable  from  our  highest  concep- 
tions of  the  realities  of  nature.  Infinite  time  and  infinite 
space,  and  the  infinite  duration  of  matter  and  of  force,  are 
conceptions  which  are  part  of  my  intellectual  being,  and  I 
cannot  "  think  them  away."  Metaphysicians  may  tell  me  that 
they  are  "forms  of  thought."  But  if  so  they  are  at  least  all 
the  more  "frankly  human,"  and  I  accept  them  as  such. 


A  MODEKAT  "  SYMPOSIUM."  igg 

Next  we  are  to  avoid  "vague  negatives  altogether." 
Well,  but  surely  a  definition  of  religion  as  distinguished  from 
theology,  which  consists  in  "  avoiding  "  certain  terms,  such  as 
we  have  now  examined,  is  a  definition  consisting  of  "  vague 
negatives  "  and  of  nothing  else. 

But  then  we  come  next  to  an  aflSrmative  definition  :  "  con- 
fining ourselves  resolutely  to  the  sphere  of  what  can  be  shown 
by  experience."  To  this  I  assent,  provided  experience  be 
not  confined  to  the  sphere  of  sense,  and  provided  everything 
which  any  man  has  ever  felt,  or  known,  or  conceived,  be  ac- 
cepted as  in  its  own  place  and  rank,  coming  within  the  sphere 
which  is  thus  described. 

Again,  it  is  demanded  of  us  that  we  confine  ourselves 
resolutely  within  '*  what  is  relative  and  not  absolute."  To  this 
I  assent.  All  knowledge  is  relative — relative  both  to  the  mind 
which  knows,  and  relative  also  to  all  other  things  which  re- 
main to  be  known.  Absolute  goodness,  and  absolute  power, 
and  absolute  knowledge  are  all  conceivable,  but  they  are  all 
relative  ;  and  to  talk  of  any  object  of  knowledge,  or  of  any 
subject  of  knowledge  as  non-relative,  is,  or  seems  to  me  to  be, 
simply  nonsense. 

Lastly,  it  is  demanded  of  us  to  confine  ourselves  to  what 
*'  is  wholly  and  frankly  human."  If  this  means  that  we  are 
not  to  think  of  any  Power  or  any  being  who  is  not  related  to 
our  human  faculties  in  a  most  definite  and  intelligible  sense, 
I  accept  the  limitation.  But  if  it  means  that  we  are  not  to 
think  of  any  such  Power  or  Being  except  under  all  the  im- 
perfections, weaknesses,  and  vices  of  humanity,  then  the  lim- 
itation is  one  which  I  cannot  accept  either  as  conceivable  in 


196  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

itself,  or  as  consistent  with  what  I  can  see  or  understand  of 
nature. 

But  ought  we  not  to  be  agreed  in  this  ?  If  there  is  a  Power 
to  which  man  "  must  bow,"  "  a  Being  which  he  must  adore," 
and  a  "  Providence  which  he  must  love  and  serve,"  it  is  clear- 
ly impossible  that  this  Being,  Power.,  or  Providence  can  be 
wholly  human,"  in  the  sense  of  being  no  greater,  no  wiser,  no 
better  than  man  himself. 

The  whole  of  this  language  is  the  language  of  theology  and 
of  nothing  else — language,  indeed,  which  may  be  held  con- 
sistently with  a  vast  variety  of  theological  creeds,  but  which  is 
inseparable  from  those  fundamental  conceptions  which  all 
such  creeds  involve,  which  is  borrowed  from  them,  and  with- 
out which  it  has  to  me  no  intelligible  sense. 

With  these  explanations  I  accept  the  tenth  paragraph  of 
Paper  No.  IV.,  and  that  part  of  the  last  paragraph  which  has 
been  already  quoted,  as  expressing,  with  admirable  force  and 
truth  at  least  one  aspect  of  the  connection  between  morals 
and  religion. 

PROFESSOR  CLIFFORD. 

In  the  third  of  the  preceding  discourses  there  is  so  much 
which  I  can  fully  and  fervently  accept,  that  I  should  find  it 
far  more  grateful  to  rest  in  that  feeling  of  admiration  and 
sympathy  than  to  attend  to  points  of  difference  which  seem 
to  me  to  be  of  altogether  secondary  import.  But  for  the 
truth's  sake  this  must  first  be  done,  because  it  will  then  be 
more  easy  to  point  out  some  of  the  bearings  of  the  position 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  197 

held  in  that  discourse  upon  the  question  which  is  under  dis- 
cussion. 

That  the  sense  of  duty  in  a  man  is  the  prompting  of  a  self 
other  than  his  own,  is  the  very  essence  of  it.  Not  only  would 
morals  not  be  self-sufficing,  if  there  were  no  such  prompting 
of  a  wider  self,  but  they  could  not  exist ;  one  might  as  well 
suppose  a  fire  without  heat.  Not  only  is  a  sense  of  duty  in- 
herent, in  the  constitution  of  our  nature,  but  the  prompting  of 
a  wider  self  than  that  of  the  individual  is  inherent  in  a  sense 
of  duty.  It  is  no  more  possible  to  have  the  right  without  un- 
selfishness than  to  have  man  without  a  feeling  for  the  right. 

We  may  explain  or  account  for  these  facts  in  various 
ways,  but  we  shall  not  thereby  alter  the  facts.  No  theories 
about  heat  and  light  will  ever  make  a  cold  fire.  And  no 
doubt  or  disproof  of  any  existing  theory  can  any  more  ex- 
tinguish that  self  other  than  myself,  which  speaks  to  me  in 
the  voice  of  conscience,  than  doubt  or  disproof  of  the 
wave-theory  of  light  can  put  out  the  noonday  sun. 

One  such  theory  is  defended  in  the  discourse  here  dealt 
with,  and,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so,  is  not  quite  sufficiently 
distinguished  from  the  facts  which  it  is  meant  to  explain.  The 
theory  is  this  :  that  the  voice  of  conscience  in  my  mind  is  the 
voice  of  a  conscious  being  external  to  me  and  to  all  men, 
who  has  made  us  and  all  the  world.  When  this  theory  is  ad- 
mitted, the  observed  discrepancy  between  our  moral  sense 
and  the  government  of  the  world  as  a  whole  makes  it  neces- 
sary to  suppose  another  world  and  another  life  in  it  for  men, 
whereby  this  discord  shall  be  resolved  in  a  final  harmony. 

I  fully  admit  that  the  theistic  hypothesis,  so  grounded,  and 


198  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

considered  apart  from  objections  otherwise  arising,  is  a  rea- 
sonable hypothesis  and  an  explanation  of  the  facts.  The  idea 
of  an  external  conscious  being  is  unavoidably  suggested,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  by  the  categorical  imperative  of  the  moral  sense  j 
and  moreover,  in  a  way  quite  independent,  by  the  aspect  of 
nature,  which  seems  to  answer  to  our  questionings  with  an 
intelligence  akin  to  our  own.  It  is  more  reasonable  to  assume 
one  consciousness  than  two,  if  by  that  one  assumption  we  can 
explain  two  distinct  facts  ;  just  as  if  we  had  been  led  to  as- 
sume an  ether  to  explain  light,  and  an  ether  to  explain  elec- 
tricity, we  might  have  run  before  experiment  and  guessed  that 
these  two  ethers  were  but  one.  But  since  there  is  a  discord- 
ance between  nature  and  conscience,  the.  theory  of  their  com- 
mon origin  in  a  mind  external  to  humanity  has  not  met  with 
such  acceptance  as  that  of  the  divine  origin  of  each.  A 
large  number  of  theists  have  rejected  it,  and  taken  refuge  in 
Manichaeism  and  the  doctrine  of  the  Demiurgus  in  various 
forms  ;  while  others  have  endeavoured,  as  aforesaid,  to  redress 
the  balance  of  the  old  world  by  calling  into  existence  a  new 
one. 

It  is,  however,  a  very  striking  and  significant  fact,  that  the 
very  great  majority  of  mankind  who  have  thought  about  these 
questions  at  all,  while  acknowledging  the  existence  of  divine 
beings  and  their  influence  in  the  government  of  the  world, 
have  sought  for  the  spring  and  sanction  of  duty  in  something 
above  and  beyond  the  gods.  The  religions  of  Brahmanism 
and  of  Buddhism,  and  the  moral  system  of  Confucius,  have 
together  ruled  over  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  human  race 
during  the  historic  period  ;  and  in  all  of  these  the  moral  sense 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  19^ 

is  regarded  as  arising  indeed  out  of  a  universal  principle,  but 
not  as  personified  in  any  conscious  being.  This  vast  body  of 
dissent  might  well,  it  should  seem,  make  us  ask  if  there  is 
anything  unsatisfying  in  the  theory  which  represents  the  voice 
of  conscience  as  the  voice  of  a  god. 

Although,  as  I  have  said,  the  idea  of  an  external  con- 
scious being  is  unavoidably  suggested  by  the  moral  sense, 
yet,  if  this  idea  should  be  found  untrue,  it  does  not  follow 
that  nature  has  been  fooling  us.  The  idea  is  not  in  the  facts, 
but  in  our  inference  from  the  facts.  A  mirror  unavoidably 
suggests  the  idea  of  a  room  behind  it ;  but  it  is  not  our  eyes 
that  deceive  us  ;  it  is  only  the  inference  we  draw  from  their 
testimony.  Further  consideration  may  lead  to  a  different  in- 
ference of  far  greater  practical  value. 

Now,  whether  or  no  it  be  reasonable  and  satisfying  to 
the  conscience,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  theistic  belief  is  a 
comfort  and  a  solace  to  those  who  hold  it,  and  that  the  loss 
of  it  is  a  very  painful  loss.  .It  cannot  be  doubted,  at  least,  by 
many  of  us  in  this  generation,  who  either  profess  it  now,  or 
received  it  in  our  childhood  and  have  parted  from  it  since 
with  such  searching  trouble  as  only  cradle-faiths  can  causes 
We  have  seen  the  spring  sun  shine  out  of  an  empty  heaven, 
to  light  up  a  soulless  earth  ;  we  have  felt  with  utter  loneliness 
that  the  Great  Companion  is  dead.  Our  children,  it  may  be 
hoped,  will  know  that  sorrow  only  by  the  reflex  light  of  a 
wondering  compassion.  But  to  say  that  theistic  belief  is  a 
comfort  and  a  solace,  and  to  say  that  it  is  the  crown  or  coping 
of  morality,  these  are  different  things. 

For  in  what  way  shall  belief  in  God  strengthen  my  sense 


200  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

of  duty  ?  He  is  a  great  one  working  for  the  right.  But  I 
already  know  so  many,  and  I  know  these  so  well.  His 
righteousness  is  tuifathomable  ;  it  transcends  all  ideals.  But  I 
have  not  yet  fathomed  the  goodness  of  living  men  whom  I 
know  ;  still  less  of  those  who  have  lived,  and  whom  I  know. 
And  the  goodness  of  all  these  is  a  striving  for  something  bet- 
ter ;  now  it  is  not  the  goal,  but  the  striving  for  it,  that  matters 
to  me.  The  essence  of  their  goodness  is  the  losing  of  the 
individual  self  in  another  and  a  wider  self ;  but  God  cannot 
do  this ;  his  goodness  must  be  something  different.  He  is  in- 
finitely great  and  powerful.,  and  he  lives  for  ei'er.  I  do  not 
understand  this  mensuration  of  goodness  by  foot-pounds  and 
seconds  and  cubic  miles.  A  little  field-mouse,  which  busies 
itself  in  the  hedge,  and  does  not  mind  my  company,  is  more 
to  me  than  the  longest  ichthyosaurus  that  ever  lived,  even  if 
he  lived  a  thousand  years.  When  we  look  at  a  starry  sky, 
the  spectacle  of  whose  awfulness  Kant  compared  with  that  of 
the  moral  sense,  does  it  help  out  our  poetic  emotion  to  reflect 
that  these  specks  are  really  very  very  big,  and  very  very  hot, 
and  very  very  far  away  ?  Their  heat  and  their  bigness 
oppress  us  ;  we  should  like  them  to  be  taken  still  further 
away,  the  great  blazing  lumps.  But  when  we  think  of  the 
unseen  planets  that  surround  them,  of  the  wonders  of  life,  of 
reason,  of  love  that  may  dwell  therein,  then  indeed  there  is 
something  sublime  in  the  sight.  Fitness  and  kinship  ;  these 
are  the  truly  great  things  for  us,  not  force  and  massiveness 
and  length  of  days. 

Length  of  days,  said  the  Old  Rabbi,  is  measured,  not  by 
their  number,  but  by  the  work  that  is  done  in  them.     We  are 


^  A  MODERN '' SYMPOSIUM.''  20i 

all  to  be  swept  away  in  the  final  ruin  of  the  earth.  The 
thought  of  that  ending  is  a  sad  thought ;  there  is  no  use  in 
trying  to  deny  this.  But  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  right  and 
wrong  ;  it  belongs  to  another  subject.  Like  All-father  Odin, 
we  must  ride  out  gaily  to  do  battle  with  the  wolf  of  doom, 
even  if  there  be  no  Balder  to  come  back  and  continue  our 
work.  At  any  rate  the  right  will  have  been  done,  and  the 
past  is  safer  than  all  storehouses. 

The  conclusion  of  the  matter  is  that  belief  in  God  and 
in  a  future  life  is  a  source  of  refined  and  elevated  pleasure  to 
those  who  can  hold  it.  But  ihe  foregoing  of  a  refined  and 
elevated  pleasure,  because  it  appears  that  we  have  no  right  to 
indulge  in  it,  is  not  in  itself,  and  cannot  produce  as  its  conse- 
quence, a  decline  of  morality. 

There  is  another  theory  of  the  facts  of  the  moral  sense  set 
forth  in  the  succeeding  discourse,  and  this  seems  to  me  to  be 
the  true  one.  The  voice  of  conscience  is  the  voice  of  our 
Father  Man  who  is  within  us  ;  the  accumulated  instinct  of 
the  race  is  poured  into  each  one  of  us,  and  overflows  us,  as 
if  the  ocean  were  poured  into  a  cup.^  Our  evidence  for 
this  explanation  is  that  the  cause  assigned  is  a  vera  causa, 
it  undoubtedly  exists ;  there  is  no  perhaps  about  that.  And 
those  who  have  tried  tell  us  that  it  is  sufficient ;  the  explana- 
tion, like  the  fact,  "covers  the  whole  voluntary  field."  The 
lightest  and  the  gravest  action  may  be  consciously  done  in 
and  for  Man.  And  the  sympathetic  aspect  of  Nature  is 
explained  to  us  in  the  same  way.     In  so  far  as  our  concep- 

'  Schopenhauer.    There  is  a  most  remarkable  article  on  the  "  Natural 
History  of  Morals  "  in  the  North  British  Review,  Dec.  1867. 


202  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

tion  of  nature  is  akin  to  our  minds  that  conceive  it,  Man 
made  it;  and  Man  made  us,  with  the  necessity  to  conceive 
it  in  this  way.^ 

I  do  not,  however,  suppose  that  morality  would  practically 
gain  much  from  the  wide  acceptance  of  true  views  about  its 
nature,  except  in  a  way  which  I  shall  presently  suggest.  I 
neither  admit  the  moral  influence  of  theism  in  the  past,  nor 
look  forward  to  the  moral  influence  of  humanism  in  the  fu- 
ture. Virtue  is  a  habit,  not  a  sentiment  or  an  -ism.  The  doc- 
trine of  total  depravity  seems  to  have  been  succeeded  by  a 
doctrine  of  partial  depravity,  aqcording  to  which  there  is  hope 
for  human  affairs,  but  still  men  cannot  go  straight  unless  some 
tremendous  all-embracing  theory  has  a  finger  in  the  pie. 
Theories  are  most  important  and  excellent  things  when  they 
help  us  to  see  the  matter  as  it  really  is,  and  so  to  judge  what 
is  the  right  thing  to  do  in  regard  to  it.  They  are  the  guides 
of  action,  but  not  the  springs  of  it.  Now  the  spring  of  vir- 
tuous action  is  the  social  instinct,  which  is  set  to  work  by  the 
practice  of  comradeship.  The  union  of  men  in  a  common 
effort  for  a  common  object — band-work,  if  I  may  venture  to 
translate  co-operation  into  English — this  is,  and  always  has 
been,  the  true  school  of  character.  Except  in  times  of  severe 
struggle  for  national  existence,  the  practice  of  virtue  by 
masses  of  men  has  always  been  coincident  with  municipal 
freedom,  and  with  the  vigor  of  such  unions  as  are  not  large 
enough  to  take  from  each  man  his  conscious  share  in  the 
work  and  in  the  direction  of  it. 

*  For  an  admirable  exposition  of  the  doctrine  of  the  social  origin  of 
our  conceptions,  see  Professor  Croom  Robertson's  Paper,  "  How  we  come 
by  our  Knowledge,"  in  the  first  number  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  303 

What  really  affects  morality  is  not  religious  belief,  but  a 
practice  which,  in  some  times  and  places,  is  thought  to  be  re- 
ligious— namely,  the  practice  of  submitting  human  life  to 
clerical  control.  The  apparently  destructive  tendency  of 
modern  times,  which  arouses  fear  and  the  foreboding  of  evil 
in  the  minds  of  many  of  the  best  of  men,  seems  to  me  to  be 
not  mainly  an  intellectual  movement.  It  has  its  intellectual 
side,  but  that  side  is  the  least  important,  and  touches  com- 
paratively few  souls.  The  true  core  of  it  is  a  firm  resolve  of 
men  to  know  the  right  at  first  hand,  which  has  grown  out  of 
the  strong  impulse  given  to  the  moral  sense  by  political  free- 
dom. Such  a  resolve  is  a  necessary  condition  to  the  exist- 
ence of  a  pure  and  noble  theism  like  that  of  the  third  dis- 
course, which  learns  what  God  is  like  by  thinking  of  man's 
love  for  man.  Although  that  doctrine  has  been  prefigured 
and  led  up  to  for  many  ages  by  the  best  teaching  of  English- 
men, and — what  is  far  more  important — ^by  the  best  practice 
of  Englishmen,  yet  it  cannot  be  accepted  on  a  large  scale 
without  what  will  seem  to  many  a  decline  of  religious  belief. 
For  assuredly  if  men  learn  the  nature  of  God  from  the  moral 
sense  of  man,  they  cannot  go  on  believing  the  doctrines  of 
popular  theology.  Such  change  of  belief  is  of  small  account 
in  itself,  for  any  consequences  it  can  bring  about ;  but  it  is  of 
vast  importance  as  a  symptom  of  the  increasing  power  and 
clearness  of  the  sense  of  duty. 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  one  "decline  of  religious 
belief,"  inseparable  from  a  revolution  in  human  conduct, 
which  would  indeed  be  a  frightful  disaster  to  mankind.  A 
tevival  of  any  form  of  sacerdotal  Christianity  would  be  a 


204  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

matter  of  practice  and  not  a  matter  of  theory.  The  system 
which  snapped  the  foundations  of  patriotism  in  the  old  world ; 
which  well  nigh  eradicated  the  sense  of  intellectual  honesty, 
and  seriously  weakened  the  habit  of  truth-speaking ;  which 
lowered  men's  reverence  for  the  marriage-bond  by  placing  its 
sanctions  in  a  realm  outside  of  nature  instead  of  in  the  com- 
mon life  of  men,  and  by  the  institutions  of  monasticism  and 
a  celibate  clergy ;  which  stunted  the  moral  sense  of  the  nations 
by  putting  a  priest  between  every  man  and  his  conscience ; 
this  system,  if  it  should  ever  return  to  power,  must  be  ex- 
pected to  produce  worse  evils  than  those  which  it  has  worked 
in  the  past.  The  house  which  it  once  made  desolate  has  been 
partially  swept  and  garnished  by  the  free  play  gained  for  the 
natural  goodness  of  men.  It  would  come  back  accompanied 
by  social  diseases  perhaps  worse  than  itself,  and  the  wreck  of 
civilized  Europe  would  be  darker  than  the  darkest  of  past 
ages. 

II. 

DR.    WARD. 

I  agree  with  the  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  that  the  wording  of 
our  question  is  unfortunately  ambiguous ;  and  I  think  that 
this  fact  has  made  the  discussion  in  several  respects  less  point- 
ed and  less  otherwise  interesting  than  it  might  have  been. 

For  my  present  purpose,  I  understand  the  term  "  religious 
belief "  as  including  essentially  belief  in  a  Personal  God  and 
in  personal  immortality.  Less  than  this  is  not  worthy  the 
name  of  religious  belief  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  I  will  not 
refer  to  any  other  religious  truths  than  these.     I  am  to  inquire, 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  205 

therefore,  what  would  be  the  influence  on  morality  of  a  decline 
in  these  two  beliefs. 

But  next,  what  is  meant  by  "  morality  ? "  I  will  explain 
as  clearly  as  brevity  may  permit  what  I  should  myself  under- 
stand by  the  term  j  though  I  am,  of  course,  well  aware,  that 
this  is  by  no  means  the  sense  in  which  Sir  J.  Fitzjames  Ste- 
phen, or  Mr.  Harrison,  or  Professor  Clifford,  understands   it. 

I  consider  that  there  is  a  certain  authoritative  Rule  of  life,^ 
necessarily  not  contingently  existing,  which  may  be  regarded 
under  a  twofold  aspect.  It  declares  that  certain  acts  (exterior 
or  interior)  are  intrinsically  and  necessarily  evil ;  it  declares 
again  that  some  certain  act  (exterior  or  interior),  even  where 
not  actually  evil,  is  by  intrinsic  necessity,  under  the  circum- 
stances of  some  given  moment,  less  morally  excellent  than 
some  certain  other  act.  Any  given  man,  therefore,  more 
effectively  practises  "  morality,"  in  proportion  as  he  more  ener- 
getically, predominantly,  and  successfully  aims  at  adjusting 
his  whole  conduct,  interior  and  exterior,  by  this  authoritative 
Rule.  Accordingly,  when  I  am  asked  what  is  the  bearing  of 
some  particular  influence  on  morality, — I  understand  myself 
to  be  asked  how  far  such  influence  affects  for  good  or  evil  the 
prevalence  of  that  practical  habit  which  I  have  just  described  ; 
how  far  such  influence  disposes  men  (or  the  contrary)  to 
adjust  their  conduct  by  this  authoritative  Rule. 

These  explanations   having  been  premised,  my  answer  to 

^  To  prevent  misapprehension  I  may  explain  that,  in  my  view,  those 
various  necessary  truths  which  collectively  constitute  this  rule  are,  like  all 
other  necessary  truths,  founded  on  the  Essence  of  God :  they  are  what 
they  are  because  He  is  what  He  is. 


2o6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

the  proposed  question  is  this.  The  absence  of  religious  belief 
— of  belief  in  a  Personal  God  and  personal  immortality — does 
not  simply  injure  morality,  but,  if  the  disbelievers  carry  their 
view  out  consistently,  utterly  destroys  it.  I  affirm — which,  of 
course  requires  proof,  though  I  have  no  space  here  to  give  it 
— that  no  one  except  a  Theist  can,  in  consistenc}',  recognize 
the  necessarily  existing  authoritative  Rule  of  which  I  have 
spoken.  But  for  practical  purposes  there  is  no  need  of  this 
affirmation,  because  in  what  follows  I  shall  refer  to  no  other 
opponents  of  religion,  except  that  antitheistic  body — consisting 
of  Agnostics,  Positivists,  and  the  like — which  in  England  just 
now  heads  the  speculative  irreligious  movement.  Now  it  is 
manifest  on  the  very  surface  of  philosophical  literature  that, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  these  men  deny  in  theory  the  existence  of 
any  such  necessary  authoritative  Rule,  as  that  on  which  I  have 
dwelt.  A  large  proportion  of  Theists  accept  it,  and  call  it 
"the  Natural  Law ;"  ^  an  Agnostic  or  Positivist  denies  its 
existence.  It  is  very  clear  that  he  who  denies  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  a  necessarily  existing  authoritative  Rule  of  life 
cannot  consistently  aim  at  adjusting  any,  even  the  smallest 
part  of  his  conduct  by  the  intimations  of  that  Rule  ;  or,  in 
other  words,  cannot  consistently  do  so  much  as  one  act, 
which  (on  the  theory  which  I  follow)  can  be  called  morally 
good. 

'  The  Natural  Law  more  strictly  includes  only  God's  prohibition  of  acts 
intrinsically  evil,  and  \n?,f  reception  of  acts  which  cannot  be  omitted  without 
doing  what  is  intrinsically  evil.  But  we  may  with  obvious  propriety  so 
extend  the  term  as  to  include  under  it  God's  counselling  of  those  acts  which, 
as  clothed  in  their  full  circumstances,  are  by  intrinsic  necessity  the  more 
moraliv  excellent. 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  2 07 

Here,  however,  a  most  important  explanation  must  be 
made.  It  continually  happens  that  some  given  philosopher 
holds  some  given  doctrine  speculatively  and  theoretically, 
while  he  holds  the  precisely  contradictory  doctrine  implicitly 
and  unconsciously ;  insomuch  that  it  is  the  latter,  and  not  the 
former,  which  he  applies  to  his  estimate  of  events  as  they 
successively  arise.  Now  the  existence  of  the  Natural  Law, — 
so  I  would  most  confidently  maintain, — is  a  truth  so  firmly 
rooted  by  God  Himself  in  the  conviction  of  every  reasonable 
creature,  that  practically  to  leaven  the  human  mind  with  belief 
of  its  contradictory  is,  even  imder  the  circumstances  most 
favorable  to  that  purpose,  a  slow  and  uphill  process.  In 
the  early  stages,  therefore,  of  antitheistic  persuasion,  there 
is  a  vast  gulf  between  the  antitheist's  speculative  theory  and 
his  practical  realization  of  that  theory.  Mr.  Mallock  has  set 
forth  this  fact,  I  think,  with  admirable  force,  in  an  article  con- 
tributed by  him  to  the  Contetnporary  of  last  January.  When 
antitheists  say, — such  is  his  argument,- — that  the  pursuit  of 
truth  is  a  "sacred,"  "heroic,"  "noble  "  exercise — when  they 
call  one  way  of  living  mean,  and  base,  and  hateful,  and  an- 
other way  of  living  great,  and  blessed,  and  admirable  —  they 
are  guilty  of  most  flagrant  inconsistency.  They  therein  use 
language  and  conceive  thoughts,  which  are  utterly  at  variance 
with  their  own  speculative  theory.  If  it  be  admitted  (i)  that 
the  idea  expressed  by  the  term  "moral  goodness  "  is  a  simple 
idea,  an  idea  incapable  of  analysis  ;  and  (2)  that  to  this  idea 
there  corresponds  a  necessary  objective  reality  in  renim 
naturcL ; — if  these  two  propositions  be  admitted,  the  existence 
of  the  Natural  Law  is  a  truth  which  irresistibly  results  from 


2o8  QUESTIOA'S  OF  BELIEF. 

the  admission.  On  the  other  hand,  if  these  two  propositions 
be  not  postulated,  then  to  talk  of  one  human  act  being 
"  higher  "  or  "  nobler  "  than  another,  is  as  simply  unmeaning 
as  to  talk  of  a  bed  being  nobler  than  a  chair,  or  a  plough 
than  a  harrow.  Whether  it  be  the  bed,  or  the  plough,  or  the 
human  act,  it  may  be  more  useful  than  the  other  articles  with 
which  it  is  brought  into  comparison ;  but  to  speak  in  either 
case  of  "  nobleness,"  is  as  the  sound  of  a  tinkling  cymbal. 
Or  rather,  which  is  my  present  point,  the  fact  of  antitheists 
using  such  language  shows,  that  their  practical  belief  is  so  far 
essentially  opposed  and  (as  I,  of  course,  should  say)  immeas- 
urably superior  to  their  speculative  theory.  To  my  mind 
there  is  hardly  any  truth  which  needs  more  to  be  insisted  on 
than  this,  in  the  present  crisis  of  philosophical  thought :  when 
antitheism  successfully  conceals  its  hideous  deformity  from 
its  own  votaries,  by  dressing  itself  up  in  the  very  garments  of 
that  rival  creed  which  it  derides  as  imbecile  and  obsolete.  I 
heartily  wish  I  had  space  for  setting  forth  in  full  and  clear 
light  the  argument  on  which  I  would  here  insist.  I  may 
refer,  however,  to  Mr.  Mallock's  article,  for  an  excellent  expo- 
sition of  it  from  his  own  point  of  view  ;  and,  in  particular,  I 
cannot  express  too  strongly  my  concurrence  with  the  follow- 
ing remarks  :- 

All  the  moral  feelings  (he  says)  at  present  afloat  in  the  world  depend, 
as  I  have  already  shown,  on  the  primary  doctrines  of  religion;  but  that 
the  former  would  outlive  the  latter  is  nothing  more  than  we  should  natu- 
rally expect :  just  as  water  may  go  on  boiling  after  it  is  taken  off  the  fire, 
as  flowers  keep  their  scent  and  color  after  we  have  plucked  them,  or  as  a 
tree  whose  roots  have  been  cut  may  yet  put  out  green  leaves  for  one 
spring  more.     But  a  time  must  come  when  all  this  will  be  over,  and  when 


A  MODE/?//  "  S  YMPO  SIUM." 


209 


the  true  effects  of  what  has  been  done  will  begin  to  show  themselves. 
Nor  can  there  be  any  reason  brought  forward  to  show  why,  if  the  creed  of 
unbelief  was  once  fully  assented  to  by  the  world,  all  morality — a  thing 
always  attended  by  some  pain  and  struggle — would  not  gradually  wither 
away,  and  give  place  to  a  more  or  less  successful  seeking  after  pleasure. 
no  matter  of  what  kind. 

I  would  also  recall  to  Sir  J.  Fitzjames  Stephen's  remem- 
brance an  admirable  statement  of  his,  which  occurs  in  the 
work  on  "  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity."  "  We  cannot 
judge  of  the  effects  of  Atheism,"  he  says,  "  from  the  conduct 
of  persons  who  have  been  educated  as  believers  in  God,  and 
in  the  midst  of  a  nation  which  believes  in  God.  If  we  should 
ever  see  a  generation  of  men,  especially  a  generation  of 
Englishmen,  to  whom  the  word  *God'  has  no  meaning  at 
all,  we  should  get  a  light  on  the  subject  which  might  be  lurid 
enough."^ 

So  far  I  have  used  the  word  "  morality "  in  that  sense 
which  I  account  the  true  one.  But  a  different  acceptation  of 
the  word  is  very  common ;  and  it  will  be  better  perhaps 
briefly  to  consider  our  proposed  question  in  the  sense  which 
that  acceptation  would  give  it.  Morality,  then,  is  often 
spoken  of  as  consisting  in  a  man's  sacrifice  of  his  personal 
desires  for  the  public  good  ;  so  that  each  man  more  faithfully 
practises  "  morality,"  in  proportion  as  he  more  effectively 
postpones  private  interests  to  public  ones.  I  have  always 
been  extremely  surprised  that  any  Theist  can  use  this  termin- 
ology ;  though  I  am  well  aware,  of  course,  that  may  do  so. 
To  mention  no  other  of  its  defects,  it  excludes  from  the 
sphere  of  morality  precisely  what  a  Theist  must  consider  the 

^  Second  edition,  p.  326. 
14 


2IO  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

most  noble  and  elevating  branch  thereof — viz.,  men's  duties 
to  their  Creator.  Constant  remembrance  of  God's  presence, 
prayer  to  Him  for  moral  strength,  purging  the  heart  from  any 
such  worldly  attachment  as  may  interfere  with  His  sovereignty 
over  the  affections — these,  and  a  hundred  others,  which  are 
man's  highest  moral  actions,  are  excluded  by  this  strange 
terminology  from  being  moral  actions  at  all.  Still  in  one 
respect  there  is  great  agreement  between  the  two  "  moral- 
ities "  in  question,  for  under  either  of  them  morality  very 
largely  consists  in  self-denial  and  self-sacrifice. 

Now,  if  it  be  asked  in  what  way  morality,  as  so  under- 
stood, would  be  affected  by  the  absence  of  religious  belief, — 
I  think  the  true  reply  is  one  which  has  so  often  been  drawn 
out  that  I  need  do  no  more  than  indicate  it.  Firstly,  apart 
from  Theistic  motives  there  is  no  sufficient  moral  leverage  ; 
men  would  not  have  the  moral  strength  required  for  sustained 
self-denial  and  self-sacrifice.  Secondly  and  more  importantly, 
if  Theistic  sanctions  were  away,  no  theory  could  be  drawn 
out  explaining  why  it  should  be  reasonable  that  a  man  sacri- 
fice his  personal  interest  to  that  of  his  fellows. 

On  this  matter  I  am  glad  that  I  have  the  opportunity  of 
drawing   attention   to  a  very  fine  passage   of  Mr.  Goldwin 
Smith's,  published  in  the  Macmillan  of  last  January : — 

Materialism  has  in  fact  already  begun  to  show  its  effects  on  human 
conduct  and  on  society.  They  may  perhaps  be  more  visible  in  communi- 
ties where  social  conduct  depends  greatly  on  individual  conviction  and 
motive  than  in  communities  which  are  more  ruled  by  tradition  and  bound 
together  by  strong  class  organizations  ;  though  the  decay  of  morality  will 
perhaps  be  more  complete  and  disastrous  in  the  latter  than  in  the  former. 
God  and  future  retribution  being  out  of  the  question,  it  is  difficult  to  see 
what  can  restrain  the  selfishness  of  an  ordinary  man,  and  induce  him,  in 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM. "  2 1 1 

the  absence  of  actual  coercion,  to  sacrifice  his  personal  desires  to  the 
public  good.  The  service  of  humanity  is  the  sentiment  of  a  refined  mind 
conversant  with  history  ;  within  no  calculable  time  is  it  likely  to  overrule 
the  passions  and  direct  the  conduct  of  the  mass.  And  after  all,  without 
God  or  spirit,  what  is  "  humanity  ?  "  One  school  of  science  reckons  a 
hundred  and  fifty  different  species  of  man.  What  is  the  bond  of  unity 
between  all  these  species,  and  wherein  consists  the  obligation  to  mutual 
love  and  help  ?  A  zealous  servant  of  science  told  Agassiz  that  the  age  of 
real  civilization  would  have  begun  when  you  could  go  out  and  shoot  a 
man  for  scientific  purposes  ;  and  in  the  controversy  respecting  the  Jamaica 
massacre  we  had  proof  enough  that  the  ascendency  of  science  and  a 
strong  sense  of  human  brotherhood  might  be  very  different  things. 
"Apparent  dirae  facies."  We  begin  to  perceive,  looming  through  the 
mist,  the  lineaments  of  an  epoch  of  selfishness  compressed  by  a  govern- 
ment of  force. 

In  fact,  even  in  the  present  early  stage  of  English  anti- 
theistic  philosophy,  if  its  adherents  are  directly  asked  what  is 
man's  reasonable  rule  of  life,  I  know  of  no  other  answer  they 
will  theoretically  give  except  one.  They  will  say  that  any 
given  person's  one  reasonable  pursuit  on  earth  is  to  aim  at  his 
own  earthly  happiness — to  obtain  for  himself  out  of  life  the 
greatest  amount  he  can  of  gratification.  No  doubt  they  will 
make  confident  statements,  on  the  indissoluble  connection  be- 
tween happiness  and  "virtue."  Still,  according  to  their  specu- 
lative theory,  the  only  reasonable  ground  for  practising  "  vir- 
tue" is  its  conduciveness  to  the  agent's  happiness. 

Now  let  us  suppose  a  generation  to  grow  up,  profoundly 
imbued  with  this  principle,  carr}'ing  it  consistently  into  detail, 
emancipated  from  the  unconscious  influence  of  (what  I  must 
be  allowed  to  call)  a  more  respectable  creed.  What  would  be 
the  result  ?  Evidently  a  man  so  trained,  in  calculating  for 
himself  the  balance  of  pleasure  and  pain,  will  give  no  credit 
on  the  former  side  to  such  gratifications  as  might  arise  from 


2 1 2  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

consciousness  of  conquest  over  his  lower  nature,  or  from  the 
pursuit  of  lofty  and  generous  aims.  These,  I  say,  will  have  no 
place  in  his  list  of  pleasures  ;  because  he  will  have  duly  learned 
his  lesson,  that  there  is  no  '*  lower ''  or  "  higher  "  nature ; 
that  no  one  aim  can  be  "  loftier  "  than  any  other  ;  that  there  is 
nothing  more  admirable  in  generosity  than  in  selfishness.  On 
the  other  hand,  neither  will  he  include,  under  his  catalogue 
oipains,  any  feeling  of  remorse  for  evil  committed,  or  any 
dread  of  possible  punishment  in  some  future  life  ;  for  he  will 
look '  with  simple  contempt  on  those  doctrines,  which  are 
required  as  the  foundation  for  such  pains.  His  common- 
sense  course  will  be  to  make  this  world  as  comfortable  a 
place  as  he  can,  by  bringing  every  possible  prudential  calcu- 
lation to  bear  on  his  purpose.  Before  all  things  he  will  keep 
his  digestion  in  good  order.  He  will  keep  at  arm's-length 
(indeed  at  many  arms'-lengths)  every  disquieting  considera- 
tion, such,  e.g.,  as  might  arise  from  a  remembrance  of  other 
men's  misery,  or  from  a  thought  of  that  repulsive  spectre 
which  the  superstitious  call  moral  obligation. 

It  is  plain  that  duly  to  pursue  the  subject  thus  opened 
would  carry  me  indefinitely  beyond  my  limits ;  *  and  I  will 
only  therefore  make  one  concluding  observation.  If  the  term 
"  virtue  "  be  retained  by  those  of  whom  I  am  speaking,  it  will 
be  used,  I  suppose,  to  express  any  habitual  practice,  which 
solidly  conduces  to  the  agent's  balance  of  earthly  enjoyment.  I 
am  confident  that, — should  this  be  the  recognized  terminology, 
and  should  the  new  school  be  permitted  to  arrive  at  its  legiti- 

'  I  have  treated  it  at  somewhat  greater  length  in  an  article  which  I  con- 
tributed to  the  Dublin  Review  of  last  Januarj',  pp.  15-21. 


A  MODERN-  "  SYMPOSIUM.''  213 

mate  development, — there  is  one  habit  which  would  be  very 
prominent  among  its  catalogue  of  "  virtues."  The  habit  to 
which  I  refer  is  indulgence  in  licentiousness — licentiousness 
practised  no  doubt  prudently,  discreetly,  calculatingly,  but  at 
the  same  time  habitually,  perseveringly,  and  with  keen  zest. 

PROFESSOR  HUXLEY. 

We  are  led  to  do  this  thing,  and  to  avoid  that,  partly  by 
instinct  and  partly  by  conscious  motives  ;  and  our  conduct  is 
said  to  be  moral  or  the  reverse,  partly  on  the  ground  of  its 
effects  upon  other  beings,  partly  upon  that  of  its  operation 
upon  ourselves. 

Social  morality  relates  to  that  course  of  action  which  tends 
to  increase  the  happiness  or  diminish  the  misery  of  other 
beings  ;  personal  morality  relates  to  that  which  has  the  like 
effect  upon  ourselves. 

If  this  be  so,  the  foundation  of  morality  must  needs  lie  in 
the  constitution  of  nature,  and  must  depend  on  the  mental 
construction  of  ourselves  and  of  other  sentient  beings. 

The  constitution  of  man  remaining  what  it  is,  his  capacity 
for  the  pleasures  and  pains  afforded  by  sense,  by  sympathy, 
or  by  the  contemplation  of  moral  beauty  and  ugliness,  is  ob- 
viously in  no  way  affected  by  the  abbreviation  of  the  prolon- 
gation of  his  conscious  life ;  nor  by  the  mere  existence 
or  non-existence  of  anything  not  included  in  nature  ;  nor,  so 
long  as  he  believes  that  actions  have  consequences,  does 
it  matter  to  him  what  connection  there  may  be  between  these 
actions  and  other  phenomena  of  nature. 


a  1 4  Q  UESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

The  assertion  that  morality  is  in  any  way  dependent  upon 
the  views  respecting  certain  philosophical  problems  a  person 
may  chance  to  hold,  produces  the  same  effect  upon  my  mind 
as  if  one  should  say  that  a  man's  vision  depends  on  his 
theory  of  light ;  or  that  he  has  no  business  to  be  sure  that 
ginger  is  hot  in  the  mouth  unless  he  has  formed  definite  views, 
in  the  first  place,  as  to  the  nature  of  ginger,  and,  secondly,  as 
to  whether  he  has  or  has  not  a  sensitive  soul. 

Social  morality  belongs  to  the  realm  of  inductive  and  de- 
ductive investigation.  Given  a  society  of  human  beings  under 
certain  circumstances ;  and  the  question  whether  a  particular 
action  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  members  of  that  society  will  tend 
to  the  increase  of  the  general  happiness  or  not,  is  a  question  of 
natural  knowledge,  and,  as  such,  is  a  perfectly  legitimate  sub- 
ject of  scientific  inquiry.  And  the  morality  or  immorality  of 
the  action  will  depend  upon  the  answer  which  the  question 
receives. 

If  it  can  be  shown  by  observation  or  experiment  that  theft, 
murder,  and  adultery  do  not  tend  to  diminish  the  happiness 
of  society,  then,  in  the  absence  of  any  but  natural  knowledge, 
they  are  not  social  immoralities. 

It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  they  might  not  be  per- 
sonal immoralities.  Without  committing  myself  to  any 
theory  of  the  origin  of  the  moral  sense,  or  even  as  to  the  ex- 
istence of  any  such  special  sense,  I  may  suggest  that  it 
is  quite  conceivable  that  discords  and  harmonies  may  affect 
the  congeries  of  feelings  to  which  we  give  the  name,  as  they 
do  others. 

I  see  no  reason  for  doubting  that  the  beauty  of  holiness 


A  MODERN' "  SYMPOSIUM."  215 

and  the  ugliness  of  sin  are,  to  a  great  many  minds,  no  mere 
metaphors,  but  feelings  as  real  and  as  intense  as  those  with 
which  the  beauty  or  ugliness  of  form  or  color  fills  the  artist 
mind,  and  that  they  are  as  independent  of  intellectual  beliefs, 
and  even  of  education,  as  are  all  the  true  aesthetic  powers  and 
impulses. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  doubt  the  existence  of  persons, 
like  the  hero  of  the  Fatal  Boots,  devoid  of  any  sense  of  moral 
beauty  or  ugliness,  and  for  them  personal  morality  has  no  ex- 
istence. They  may  offend,  but  they  cannot  sin  ;  they  may 
be  sorry  for  having  stolen  or  murdered,  because  society  pun- 
ishes them  for  their  social  immoralities,  but  they  are  inca- 
pable of  repentance. 

Before  going  further,  I  think  it  may  be  needful  to  dis- 
criminate between  religion  and  theology. 

I  object  to  the  very  general  use  of  the  terms  Religion  and 
Theology  as  if  they  were  synonymous,  or  indeed  had  anything 
whatever  to  do  with  one  another.  Religion  is  the  affair  of  the 
affections,  theology  of  the  intellect.  The  religious  man  loves 
an  ideal  perfection,  which  may  be  natural  or  non-natural  ;  the 
theologian  expounds  the  attributes  of  what  he  terms  "  super- 
natural "  Being  as  so  many  scientific  truths,  the  consequences 
of  which  work  into  the  general  scheme  of  nature,  and  are 
there  discernible  by  ordinary  methods  of  investigation.  What 
the  theologian  affirms  may  be  put  in  this  way  that  beyond  the 
natiira  natnrata,  mirrored  or  made  by  the  natural  operations 
of  the  human  mind,  there  is  a  natiira  naturans,  sufficient 
knowledge  of  which  is  attainable  only  through  the  channel  of 
revelation. 


2i6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Now  I  think  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  both  religion  and 
theology,  as  thus  defined,  have  exercised,  and  must  exercise, 
a  profound  influence  on  morality.  For  it  may  be  that  the 
object  of  a  man's  religion — the  ideal  which  he  worships — is 
an  ideal  of  sensual  enjoyment,  or  of  domination,  or  of  the 
development  of  all  his  faculties  towards  perfection,  or  of  self- 
annihilation,  or  of  benevolence ;  and  his  personal  morality 
will,  in  part,  contribute  largely  to  the  formation  of  his  ideal, 
and  will,  in  part,  be  swayed  and  bent  until  it  harmonizes  with 
that  ideal. 

Moreover,  it  is  clear  that  a  man's  theology  may  give  him 
such  views  of  the  action  of  the  natura  naturans  as  will  pro- 
foundly modify  or  even  reverse  his  social  morality. 

He  may  see  ground  for  believing  that  conduct  of  evil 
effect  upon  society,  which  is  part  of  the  natura  naturata,  is  in 
harmony  with  the  laws  of  action  of  the  natura  naturans ;  and 
that,  as  the  rewards  and  punishments  of  men  are  but  slight 
and  temporary,  while  those  inflicted  by  the  greater  power  be- 
hind the  natura  naturata  are  grievous  and  endless,  common 
prudence  may  dictate  obedience  to  the  stronger.  And  history 
proves  that  there  is  no  social  crime  that  man  can  commit 
which  has  not  been  dictated  by  theology  and  committed  on 
theological  grounds.  On  the  other  hand,  the  belief  that  the 
divine  commands  are  identical  with  the  laws  of  social  moral- 
ity has  lent  infinite  strength  to  the  latter  in  all  ages. 

In  like  manner  it  seems  to  me  impossible  to  overestimate 
the  influence  of  speculative  beliefs  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
Deity,  apart  from  all  idea  of  rewards  and  punishments,  upon 
personal   morality.    The  lover  of  moral  beauty,  struggling 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  2 1 7 

through  a  world  full  of  sorrow  and  sin,  is  surely  as  much  the 
stronger  for  believing  that  sooner  or  later  a  vision  of  perfect 
peace  and  goodness  will  burst  upon  him,  as  the  toiler  up  a 
mountain  for  the  belief  that  beyond  crag  and  snow  lies  home 
and  rest.  For  the  other  side  of  the  picture,  who  shall  exag- 
gerate the  deadly  influence  on  personal  morality  of  those  the- 
ologies which  have  represented  the  Deity  as  vainglorious,  irri- 
table, and  revengeful — as  a  sort  of  pedantic  drill-sergeant  of 
mankind,  to  whom  no  valor,  no  long-tried  loyalty,  could 
atone  for  the  misplacement  of  a  button  of  the  uniform,  or  the 
misunderstanding  of  a  paragraph  of  the  "  regulations  and  in- 
structions ? " 

While  no  one  can  dare  history,  or  even  look  about  him, 
without  admitting  the  enormous  influence  of  theology  on 
morality,  it  would  perhaps  be  hard  to  say  whether  it  has  been 
greater  or  less  than  the  influence  of  morality  on  theology. 
But  the  latter  topic  is  not  at  present  under  discussion  ;  and 
the  only  further  remark  I  would  venture  to  add  is  this — that 
the  intensity  and  reality  of  the  action  of  theological  beliefs 
upon  morality  are  precisely  measured  by  the  conviction  of 
those  who  hold  them  that  they  are  true.  That  such  and  such 
a  doctrine  conduces  to  morality,  and  disbelief  in  it  to  im- 
morality, may  be  demonstrated  by  an  endless  array  of  con- 
vincing syllogisms  ;  but  unless  the  doctrine  is  true,  the  prac- 
tical result  of  this  expenditure  of  logic  is  not  apparent.  I 
have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  if  mankind  could  be  got  to 
believe  that  every  socially  immoral  act  would  be  instantly 
followed  by  three  months'  severe  toothache,  such  acts  would 
soon  cease  to  be  perpetrated.     It  would  be  a  faith  charged 


2l8  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

with  most  beneficent  works,  but  unfortunately  this  faith  can 
so  easily  be  shown  to  be  disaccordant  with  fact  that  it  is  not 
■worth  while  to  become  its  prophet. 

For  my  part  I  do  not  for  one  moment  admit  that  morality 
is  not  strong  enough  to  hold  its  own.  But  if  it  is  demonstrated 
to  me  that  I  am  wrong,  and  that  without  this  or  that  theologi- 
cal dogma  the  human  race  will  lapse  into  bipedal  cattle,  more 
brutal  than  the  beasts  by  the  measure  of  their  greater  clever- 
ness, my  next  question  is  to  ask  for  the  proof  of  the  truth  of 
the  dogma. 

If  this  proof  is  forthcoming,  it  is  my  conviction  that  no 
drowning  sailor  ever  clutched  a  hencoop  more  tenaciously 
than  mankind  will  hold  by  such  dogma,  whatever  it  may  be. 
But  if  not,  then  I  verily  believe  that  the  human  race  will  go 
its  evil  way ;  and  my  only  consolation  lies  in  the  reflection 
that,  however  bad  our  posterity  may  become,  so  long  as  they 
hold  by  the  plain  rule  of  not  pretending  to  believe  what  they 
have  no  reason  to  believe  because  it  may  be  to  their  advan- 
tage so  to  pretend,  they  will  not  have  reached  the  lowest 
depths  of  immorality. 

MR.  R.  H.  HUTTON. 

That  has  happened  to  us  which  happened  to  the  disputants 
in  that  Attic  Symposium  from  which,  I  suppose,  the  name  for 
our  discussion  was  taken.  We  have  been  interrupted  by  a 
"  great  knocking  at  the  door  "  and  the  entrance  of  an  unbidden 
guest,  who,  however,  shows  no  sign  either  of  Alcibiades'  in- 
toxication, or  of  that  generous  disposition  to  crown  the  most 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  ri^ 

deserving  with  garlands,  which  may  perhaps  have  had  some 
connection  with  the  excesses  of  the  brilliant  Athenian's  pota- 
tions. The  Saturday  Reviewer,  who,  without  dropping  his 
mask,  has  thrust  upon  us  his  own  criticism  on  our  discussion,^ 
has  certainly  not  conferred  the  most  meagre  of  wreaths  on 
any  one,  unless  indeed  it  may  be  said  that  he  grudgingly 
crowns  the  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  and  the  Duke  of  Arg\-ll  with  a 
withered  sprig  or  two  of  parsley,  for  pointing  out  that  our 
subject  is  much  too  vague,  and  for  trying  to  narrow  a  discus- 
sion so  "  abstract  and  ill-defined."  His  general  criticism  is 
contained  in  the  harsh  remark  that  ''  all  the  fine  talk  of  the 
chosen  illuminati  is  a  mass  of  words  with  very  little  meaning," 
and  that  "  the  deliberations  of  the  Symposium  bear  a  very 
strong  resemblance  to  those  of  the  diplomatists  who  have 
been  lately  concocting  protocols ;  that  is,  they  consist  of 
empty  phrases  to  which  all  the  parties  can  agree  because  they 
do  not  touch  any  of  the  points  on  which  the  co-signataries 
would  be  likely  to  differ."  That  is  a  much  crueller  interrup- 
tion than  any  caused  by  Alcibiades  to  the  guests  assembled 
at  the  Symposium  of  Plato,  nor  do  I  think  it  is  quite  just, 
though  there  is  enough  justice  in  it  to  make  me  try  to  bring 
out  what  seem  to  me  the  clearly  understood  issues  between 
us  a  little  more  distinctly,  in  the  few  words  I  have  to  say. 
To  limit  the  subject  as  much  as  possible,  I  will  speak  of 
nothing  but  the  effect  likely  to  be  produced  on  morality  by 
any  decline  in  the  belief  in  a  righteous  God  independent  of, 
and  external  to,  the  human  race — in  one,  that  is,  whose  lead- 
ing purpose  in  relation  to  us  is  believed  to  be  to  mould 
1  See  Saturday  Review  for  March  31,  art.  "  A  Modern  Symposium." 


220  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

our  motives  and  characters  into  the  likeness  of  his  own. 
Now  it  seems  to  me  that  all  the  previous  speakers  except 
two,  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison  and  Professor  Clifford,  believe, 
for  different  reasons,  and  in  different  degrees,  that  such  a 
decline  in  such  a  belief  in  God  would  probably  result  in 
parallel  decline  in  human  morality  though  some  insist  most, 
like  Sir  James  Stephen  and  Professor  Huxley,  on  the  point 
that  any  attempt  to  bolster  up  the  belief  artificially  for  the 
sake  of  its  moral  consequences,  by  discountenancing  free 
discussion,  would  result  in  a  worse  decline  of  morality, 
and  others  insist  most,  like  Dr.  Martineau,  Lord  Selborne, 
and  Dean  Church,  on  the  point  that  the  same  causes  which 
result  in  a  decline  in  this  belief  (especially  as  it  is  represented 
in  Christianity)  are  likely  to  result  also  in  a  decline  in  the 
force  of  the  ethical  principles  so  closely  associated  with  it. 
But  I  do  not  understand  any  one  to  differ  with  Professor 
Huxley  that  if  the  belief  can  be  shown  to  be  false,  be  the 
moral  consequence  what  it  may,  it  ought  to  go.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  understand  both  Mr.  Harrison  and  Professor  Clifford 
to  assert  that  the  causes  which,  as  they  think,  have  under- 
mined and  are  undermining  the  belief  in  a  righteous  God, 
external  to  the  human  race,  have  no  tendency  to  undermine 
the  binding  power  of  the  highest  human  ethics,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  have  a  direct  tendency  to  elevate  and  refine  them, 
though  Professor  Clifford  regards  this  tendency  as,  on  the 
whole,  slight,  and  confined  chiefly  to  the  blow  which  such  a 
change  in  belief  will  have  in  diminishing  the  control  of  the 
clergy,  while  Mr.  Harrison  expects  very  much  indeed  from  it, 
if  only  through  its  tendency  to  concentrate  on  the  desirable 


A  MODERN  ''SYMPOSIUMS  22  J 

aims  of  a  real  world,  an  enthusiasm  now  so  much  dissipated, 
in  his  opinion,  by  lavishing  it  on  imaginary  objects. 

Now,  while  I  heartily  admit  with  Professor  Huxley  the 
conceivability  that  a  gross  delusion — like  the  belief  "that 
every  socially  immoral  act  would  instantly  be  followed  by 
three  months,  severe  toothache  " — if  it  could  be  palmed  off 
successfully  upon  our  race,  would  have  so7ne  very  beneficial 
consequences — (some  also  by  no  means  beneficial) — and 
should  not  a  bit  the  less  regard  a  conspiracy,  even  if  one 
were  practicable,  to  impose  such  a  delusion  on  our  race,  as  a 
great  sin,  I  cannot  the  more  on  that  account  see  how  to  dis- 
entangle the  question  whether  there  be  a  righteous  God  ex- 
ternal to  men  from  the  question  whether  there  would  be  a 
great  moral  loss  to  human  nature  in  the  dissipation  of  the  be- 
lief in  such  a  God.  It  is  quite  conceivable — nay,  it  has  often 
happened — that  a  sincere  delusion  has  produced  the  best 
results.  The  belief  in  an  imaginary  danger  of  death,  for  in- 
stance, has  often  made  a  man  take  life  more  seriously ;  and 
the  belief  in  an  imaginary  danger  of  invasion  has  probably 
often  bound  a  divided  nation  together  and  given  it  a  greater 
nervous  strength  and  manliness.  But  though  it  is  easy  to 
conceive  a  belief,  in  some  respects  beneficial,  which  is  wholly 
false,  it  seems  to  me,  in  the  case  before  us,  that  the  very  ele- 
ment in  the  belief  we  are  discussing  which  makes  it  beneficial, 
is  also  a  clear  note  of  its  truth.  What  makes  the  belief  in 
such  a  God  as  I  have  spoken  of  beneficial,  is  that  this  belief, 
and  this  only,  gives  to  the  attitude  of  man's  mind,  in  relation 
to  right  motive  and  right  action,  that  mixture  of  courage  and 
cheerful  irresponsibility  for  the  result,  characteristic  of  2i  faith. 


222  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Luther's  great  saying,  "  We  say  to  our  Lord  God  that  if  He 
will  have  his  Church,  He  must  uphold  it,  for  we  cannot  up- 
hold it,  and,  even  if  we  could,  we  should  become  the  proudest 
asses  under  heaven,"  ^  would  be  of  course  simply  untranslatable 
into  any  humanist  or  Positivist  dialect  at  all.  I  do  not  in- 
deed quite  know  what  Mr.  Harrison  means  when  he  talks  of 
a  "  frankly  human  "  religion  which  shall  provide  us  with  a 
"  Providence  "  whom  we  are  "to  love  and  serve  ;  "  but  I  sup- 
pose he  must  mean  that  we  are  to  love  that  law  of  the  uni- 
verse which  produces  a  certain  amount  of  correspondence 
between  our  nature  and  its  "  environment,"  and  that  we  are 
to  cooperate  with  that  law.  At  least  this  is  the  only  meaning 
I  am  able  to  attach  to  "  loving  and  serving  "  a  Providence 
without  believing  in  God.  Now  for  myself  I  am  incapable  of 
loving  a  mere  law  of  any  kind,  whether  it  be  a  law  of  gravita- 
tion, a  law  of  assimilation  between  my  organism  and  its  en- 
vironment, or  any  other ;  and  as  for  "  serving  "  it,  I  like  to 
judge  for  myself,  and,  instead  of  allowing  myself  always  to  be 
assimilated  to  my  "environment,"  I  sometimes  prefer  what  is 
called,  in  the  language  of  the  same  philosophy,  "  differentia- 
ting "  myself  from  it.  But  I  think  even  Mr.  Harrison  would 
hardly  justify  language  of  trust  like  Luther's  towards  a 
"  Being  "  of  whom  we  are  supposed  to  know  nothing  except 
that  it  has  given  rise  to  the  earth  we  live  on,  and  will  most 
likely,  in  a  few  thousand  years,  also  put  a  final  end  to  it.  You 
cannot  trust  a  being  of  whose  purposes,  or  capacity  for  having 
purposes,  you  know  nothing,  because  trust  implies  approving 
those  purposes  and  believing  them  to  be  accompanied  by  a 
*  Tischreden,  ed.  Forstemann,  Leipzig,  1844,  vol.  ii.  p.  330. 


A  MODERN  "  symposium:'  223 

far  higher  range  of  knowledge  and  foresight  than  your  own. 
Yet  has  not  all  the  benefit  of  trust  in   God  arisen  from  that 
humility  and  courage,  that  self-abandonment  to  a  higher  will, 
that  sense  of  complete  irresponsibility  for  the  result  when  the 
right  thing  is  once  done,  which  constitute  moral  heroism  ? 
Could  such  moral  heroism  survive  the  belief  in  a  divine  will 
which  is  shaping  all  right  action  to  a  perfect  end  ?     Suppose 
we  believed  in  unknown  causes  which  produce  indeed  such 
moral  phenomena  as  those  of  human  life  for  a  moment  in  the 
long  ages  of  evolution — which  bring  them  like  a  ripple  to  the 
surface,  but  quench  them,  like  that  ripple,  for  evermore,  and 
which  are  as  certain  so  to  quench  them  as  the  sun  is  one  day  ' 
to  be  burnt  out, — is  it  possible  we  could  cast  ourselves  on. 
such  unknown  causes  with  the  sort  of  faith  in  God  that  has 
"  moved  mountains,"  and  that  will  move  mountains  again,  that 
will  say,  for  instance,  to  this  huge  dead  weight  of  Secularism 
and  Positivism,  "  Be  thou  cast  into  the  sea,"  and  it  will  obey  ? 
Nor  can  I  see  any  better  help  in  Professor  Clifford's  sub- 
stitute for  God — namely,  the  higher  self  represented  by  "  the 
voice  of  our  Father  Man  who  is  within  us,"  /.<?.  by  "  the  ac- 
cumulated instinct  of  the  race  poured  into  each   one  of  us  '> 
and  overflowing  us,  "  as  if  the  ocean  were  poured  into  a  cup.'* 
The  "accumulated  instinct  of  our  race"  includes  a  great  deal 
of  evil  as  well  as  good,  and  is  often  unaccompanied  by  any 
accumulation  of  instinct  for  the  suppressing  of  the  evil  by  the 
good.     I  quite  agree  with  those  who  have  urged  that  it  was 
the  "  accumulated  instinct "  of  the    Athenian  people  which 
taught  them  the  necessity  of  putting  down  Socrates  as  one 
who  was  undermining  the  social  order  to  which  he  belonged. 


22  4  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

I  do  not  doubt  that  Socrates  shared  that  accumulated  instinct 
not  less — nay,  probably,  much  more — than  the  rest  of  his 
countrymen.  Probably  it  overflowed  him  "  as  an  ocean  might 
overflow  a  cup."  Nevertheless  the  solitary  voice  within  him, 
which  he  attributed  to  his  "  dsemon,"  though  it  could  not 
drown  the  voice  of  this  "  accumulated  instinct,"  was  heard 
above  it,  and  prevailed  over  the  pleas  of  comradeship,  and 
over  what  Professor  Clifford  deems  the  only  "  spring  of 
virtuous  action,"  the  impulse  which  invites  men  to  make  in- 
dividual sacrifices  to  promote  the  greater  efficiency  of  the 
social  bond. 

Some  one  may  wonder  (says  Socrates  in  Plato's  Apology)  why  I  go 
about  in  private  giving  advice  and  busying  myself  with  the  concerns  of 
others,  but  do  not  venture  to  come  forward  in  public  and  advise  the  State. 
I  will  tell  you  the  reason  of  this.  You  have  often  heard  me  speak  of  an 
oracle  or  sign  which  comes  to"  me,  and  is  the  divinity  which  Meletus  ridi- 
cules in  the  indictment.  This  sign  I  have  had  ever  since  I  was  a  child. 
The  sign  is  a  voice  which  comes  to  me  and  always  forbids  me  to  do  some- 
thing which  I  am  going  to  do,  but  never  commands  me  to  do  anything,  and 
this  is  what  stands  in  the  way  of  my  being  a  politician.  And  rightly,  as  I 
think.  For  I  am  certain,  O  men  of  Athens,  that  if  I  had  eng.iged  in  pol« 
itics  I  should  have  perished  long  ago  and  done  no  good  either  to  you  or 
to  myself.  And  don't  be  afraid  of  my  telling  you  the  truth,  for  the  truth 
is  that  no  man  who  goes  to  war  with  you  or  any  other  multitude,  honest- 
ly struggling  against  the  commission  of  unrighteousness  and  wrong  in  the 
State,  will  save  his  life  ;  he  who  will  really  fight  for  the  right,  if  he  would 
live  even  for  a  little  while,  must  have  a  private  station  and  not  a  public 
one.^ 

This  is  unsocial  doctrine  enough,  and  of  course  Professor 
Clifford  will  say  that,  though  fatal  to  the  existing  Athenian 
State,  it  had  its  source  in  instincts  essential  to  a  higher  politi- 
cal virtue  and  to  the  cohesion  of  a  nobler  kind  of  State. 
1  Professor  Jowett's  Flalo,  vol.  i.  p.  346,  ist  ed. 


A  MODERN  "SYMPOSIUM."  225 

Grant  it  for  a  moment.  Yet  how  can  we  expect  moral  hero- 
ism of  the  same  type  as  that  which  is  convinced  that  invisible 
Power  is  on  its  side,  and  trusts  to  the  vindication  of  the  future,  if 
instead  of  ascribing  the  origin  of  its  impulses  to  a  divine  Power 
which  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever — a  Power 
above  it  and  beyond  it, — he  who  has  to  evince  this  moral 
heroism  believes  that  there  is  no  inspiring  mind  higher  than 
his  own,  and  holds,  therefore,  that  he  must  rely  on  himself, 
and  on  himself  alone,  for  the  fine  faculty  to  discriminate  be- 
tween the  inchoate  order  of  a  new  society,  and  the  worn-out 
guarantees  of  an  order  which  is  passing  away  ?  How  is  one 
who  is  fully  aware  that  he  is  dissolving  the  ancient  bonds  of 
a  venerable  society  and  polity,  but  who  only  hoJ>es  that  he  i^ 
creating  the  germs  of  something  better,  to  set  his  face  against 
the  brotherhood  among  whom  he  lives,  and  to  defy  the  wrath 
of  the  fellow-citizens  whom  he  sees,  and  all  without  the  whis- 
per of  approval  from  any  spiritual  being  behind  the  veil? 
Surely  the  hesitating  inspiration  of  that  long-buried  ancestor, 
"  our  Father  Man  " — to  admit,  for  a  moment.  Professor  Clif- 
ford's assumption — when  it  spells  out  dubious  and  unaccus- 
tomed lessons  which  the  voices  of  our  brother-men  join,  in 
loud  chorus,  to  decry,  would  not  be  very  likely  to  triumph 
over  fears  and  scruples  which  "  our  Father  Man  "  also  au- 
thenticates, and  authenticates  much  more  positively  than  he 
ever  can  authenticate  the  first  faintly  uttered  principles  of  a 
new  kind  of  social  union  against  the  old.  What  was  it,  as  I 
asked  before,  which  stimulated  Luther  to  his  gigantic  enter- 
prise ?  Not  the  doubtful  guess  that  buried  generations  had 
transmitted  to  him  the  glimpse  of  a  reform  which  would  trans- 

15 


2  26  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

figure  society,  but  the  belief  that  be  could  honestly  use  the 
language  of  that  psalm  that  he  so  much  delighted  to  appro- 
priate to  himself :  "  They  came  about  me  like  bees,  and  are 
extinct  even  as  the  fire  among  the  thorns,  for  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  I  will  destroy  them."  Whether  the  belief  in  "  our  Father 
Man  "  and  in  a  tentative  Providence  which  does  not  foresee, 
but  only  accommodates  the  individual  to  his  "environment,"  as 
the  only  guides  of  our  moral  life,  be  wild  or  sober,  this,  I 
think,  is  clear,  that  it  does  not  provide  the  martyr  or  the  re- 
former with  the  stimulating  power  of  tsl  faith  ;  that  it  can  give 
no  confidence  like  that  in  an  inspiration  of  far  wider  grasp 
and  far  deeper  purpose  than  any  which  the  reformer  himself 
commands;  that  it  leaves  him  a  xc^^xo. pioneer  amidst  dangers 
and  difficulties  to  which  it  may  turn  out  that  both  he  and  his 
race  are  quite  unequal,  instead  of  a  humble  follower  obeying 
the  beckoning  of  one  who  holds  both  past  and  future  in  his 
hand. 

And  now  as  to  my  second  point — that  the  very  element 
which  gives  so  beneficial  a  character  to  the  belief  that  con- 
science is  the  inspiration  of  God — the  very  element  which 
makes  it  a  useful  and  practically  stimulating  belief,  and  not, 
as  Professor  Clifford  calls  it,  a  mere  source  of  "  refined  and 
elevated  pleasure  " — is  also  a  note  of  its  truth.  I  hold  this 
to  be  so  because  the  very  experience  which  produces  the  trust 
is  an  experience  of  life,  and  of  life  morally  higher  than  one's 
self.  Surely,  if  we  are  competent,  as  we  are,  to  say  when  our 
friends  and  our  favorite  books  tempt  us,  and  when  they  raise 
us  above  temptation,  we  are  also  competent  to  say  when 
thoughts  that  strike  with  a  living  power  upon  the  heart  come 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUM."  227 

from  a  higher,  and  when  they  come  from  a  lower  source  than 
that  of  our  own  habitual  principles  of  action — when  they 
come  with  promise  and  command,  and  when  they  come 
with  discordant  sneers,  discouragement,  and  enervation. 
When  we  grasp  dimly  at  a  great  moral  principle  which  is  full, 
to  use  Professor  Tyndall's  language,  of  "  the  promise  and 
potency  "  of  all  forms  of  life — when  the  more  we  consider  it, 
the  less  we  see  where  it  is  leading  us,  and  yet  only  feel  the 
more  confidence  in  it  on  that  account — when  we  recognize  a 
clue  and  a  guide  without  recognizing  where  that  clue  and  that 
guide  are  pointing  to — when  we  know  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
defy  the  world  in  the  name  of  a  principle  of  which  we  can- 
not gauge  the  full  meaning,  or  measure  even  the  immediate 
effects  (and  this  is,  as  I  maintain,  the  true  phenomenon  visi- 
ble in  all  great  moral,  as  in  all  great  intellectual,  origination) 
— then  it  does  seem  to  me  to  be  a  sober  and  wholesome  con- 
viction that  that  which  we  do  not  know,  there  is  one  who  puts 
the  clue  into  our  hands,  who  does  know ;  that  what  we  cannot 
foresee,  there  is  one  who  does  foresee  ;  that  we  are  grasping 
the  hand  of  a  Power  which  knows  the  way  before  as  well  as 
behind ;  that  we  are  following  the  glimmer  of  a  ray  which 
will  lead  us  on  to  the  dayspring  from  which  it  descended.  I 
cannot  but  believe  that  we  have  as  secure  a  faculty  to  dis- 
criminate the  superiority  of  the  life  in  which  a  moral  impres- 
sion originates,  as  we  have  to  discriminate  its  rightness  itself 
— that  it  is  one  and  the  same  act  of  discrimination  which  says 
"This  is  obligatory,"  and  which  says  "This  is  instinct  with 
divine  life  and  promise."  To  suppose  that  a  dead  ancestry 
are  flashing  through  us  these  commands  which  at  once  repu- 


228  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

diate  their  principles  and  nerve  us  against  the  wrath  of  their 
descendants,  seems  to  me,  I  confess,  a  degrading  superstition. 
If  "we  boast  to  be  better  than  our  fathers,"  it  must  be  some 
one  better  than  our  fathers  who  is  giving  us  our  watchword. 
This  is  why  I  hold  that  to  lose  the  faith  in  God  would  be  to 
lose  a  great  inheritance  of  moral  order  and  moral  progress, 
and  also  to  lose  at  the  same  moment  a  truth  in  comparison 
with  which  all  other  truths  are  as  dim  and  isolated  sparks  be- 
side a  pillar  of  fire  that  can  guide  us  through  a  wilderness 
that  we  have  never  even  explored. 

SIR  JAMES  STEPHEN. 

The  paper  which  began  this  discussion  was  entitled  "  The 
Influence  upon  Morality  of  a  Decline  in  Religious  Belief." 
The  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  remarks  :  "  It  seems  to  me  difficult  to 
discuss  this  question  till  it  is  settled,  at  least  generally,  what 
morality  is  influenced,  and  what  religious  belief  is  declining." 
The  Duke  of  Argyll  observes  that  these  papers  "  deal  with  a 
question  very  abstract  and  ill-defined."  Dr.  Ward  says  that 
**  the  wording  of  our  question  is  unfortunately  ambiguous,  and 
I  think  that  this  fact  has  made  the  discussion  in  several  re- 
spects less  pointed  and  less  otherwise  interesting  than  it  might 
have  been." 

To  these  criticisms  I  reply  that  the  title  of  my  paper  con- 
tains no  questions  at  all,  and  was  not  intended  to  do  so.  It 
is  simply  an  indication,  in  the  most  general  terms,  of  the  sub- 
ject to  which  the  paper  of  which  it  is  the  title  relates.  Any- 
one who  will  take  the  trouble  to  read  the  paper  will  see  that 


A  MODERN  "  SYMPOSIUMP  ^29 

its  principal  object  was  to  assert  the  proposition  with  which 
it  concludes,  which  is  in  these  words  : — 

This  [/>.  the  whole  of  the  preceding  argument]  shows  that  the  sup- 
port which  an  existing  creed  gives  to  an  existing  system  of  morals  is  irrel- 
evant to  its  truth,  and  that  the  question  whether  a  given  system  of  morals 
is  good  or  bad  cannot  be  fully  determined  until  after  the  determination  of 
the  question  whether  the  theology  on  which  it  rests  is  true  or  false.  The 
morality  is  [I  should  have  said  "  may  be  "]  good  if  it  is  founded  on  a  true 
estimate  of  the  consequences  of  human  actions.  But  if  it  is  founded  on  a 
false  theology  it  is  founded  on  a  false  estimate  of  the  consequences  of 
human  actions ;  and  so  far  as  that  is  the  case  it  cannot  be  good  ;  and  the 
circumstance  that  it  is  supported  by  the  theology  to  which  it  refers  is  an 
argument  against,  and  not  in  favour  of,  that  theology. 

The  only  "question"  which  my  paper  was  intended"  to 
raise  is  the  questi  jn  wl  ether  that  proposition  is  true  or  not  ? 
I  do  not  see  how  its  truth  can  depend  (as  the  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's  suggests)  upon  further  particulars  as  to  "what  moral- 
ity is  influenced,"  or  "  what  theology  is  declining."  I  said 
nothing  about  the  decline  of  any  particular  theological  belief, 
or  its  influence  on  any  particular  system  of  morals.  My  prop- 
osition would  apply  to  all  creeds  and  all  forms  of  morality. 

As  to  the  Duke  of  Argyll's  statement  that  "  the  question 
is  very  abstract  and  ill-defined,"  I  should  admit  its  justice  if 
the  title  of  the  paper  were  taken  as  the  statement  of  a  ques- 
tion. But  this  is  not  the  case.  The  proposition  which  I  put 
forward,  in  the  hope  that  it  would  be  discussed,  is  no  doubt 
general  in  its  terms,  but  it  seemed,  and  still  seems  to  me,  def- 
inite enough  to  be  discussed.  As  to  the  "  ambiguity  "  of 
which  Dr.  Ward  complains,  I  cannot  see  how  my  proposition 
can  have  more  meanings  than  one. 

The  papers  which  have  been  written  subsequently  to  my 


230  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

paper  raise  a  great  variety  of  points  which  I  feel  much  tempt- 
ed to  discuss,  but  I  hardly  feel  at  liberty  to  do  so,  as  they  do 
not  in  any  way  qualify  anything  said  by  me.  Each  paper, 
indeed,  is  an  illustration  of  the  truth  of  some  part  of  my 
proposition  or  of  the  assertions  by  which  it  is  introduced  ;  for 
each  shows  in  various  ways  how  very  close  is  the  connection 
in  the  writer's  mind  between  the  theological  system  which  he 
believes  to  be  true  and  the  moral  system  which  he  considers 
to  be  good  ;  and  this  again  shows  that  the  question  of  truth 
must  precede  the  question  of  goodness,  and  cannot  be  deter- 
mined by  any  answer  which  may  be  given  to  the  latter  question. 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  if  this  were  generally  understood 
it  would  affect  very  deeply  the  character  of  a  great  proportion 
of  current  theological  speculation. 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT} 

BY  G.    H.    LEWES. 

Modern  Philosophy  has  moved  along  two  increasingly  di- 
vergent lines.  One  traversed  by  Galileo,  Descartes,  Newton, 
and  Laplace,  had  for  its  goal  the  absolute  disengagement  of 
the  physical  from  the  mental,  i.e.  the  objective  from  the  sub- 
jective aspect  of  phenomena,  so  that  the  physical  universe, 
thus  freed  from  all  the  complexities  of  Feeling,  might  be  in- 
terpreted in  mechanical  terms.  As  a  preliminary  simplifica- 
tion of  the  problem  this  was  indispensable  ;  only  by  it  could 
the  First  Notion  of  primitive  speculation  be  replaced  by  the 
Theoretic  Conception  of  scientific  speculation.^  The  early 
thinker  inevitably  invested  all  external  objects  with  proper- 
ties and  qualities  similar  to  those  he  assigned  to  human  be- 
ings, their  actions  he  assigned  to  human  motives.  Sun,  moon, 
and  stars  seemed  living  beings  ;  flames,  streams,  and  winds 
were  supposed  to  be  moved  by  feelings  such  as  those  known  to 
move  animals  and  men.  Nor  was  any  other  conception  then 
possible  :  men  could  only  interpret  the  unknown  by  the  known, 

^  The  Fortnightly  Review,  March,  1877.  This  essay  is  to  form 
part  of  a  forthcoming  volume  on  The  Physical  Basis  of  Mind. 

2  On  the  distinction  between  first  notions  and  theoretic  conceptions. 
Bee  Mr.  Lewes'  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  voL  ii.  p.  251. 


232  Q  UESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

and  their  standard  of  all  action  was  necessarily  drawn  from  their 
own  actions.  Not  having  analyzed  Volition  and  Emotion,  above 
all,  not  having  localized  these  in  a  neuro-muscular  system, 
men  could  not  susjoect  that  the  movements  of  planets  and 
plants,  and  of  streams  and  stones,  had  motors  of  a  different 
kind  from  the  movements  of  animals.  The  scientific  concep- 
tion of  inert  insensible  Matter  was  only  attained  through  a 
long  education  in  abstraction;  and  is  assuredly  never  at- 
tained by  animals,  or  by  savages.  But  no  sooner  were  vital 
conditions  recognized,  than  the  difference  between  vital  and 
mechanical  movements  emerged.  When  men  learned  that 
many  of  their  own  actions  were  unaccompanied  either  by  Love 
or  Hate,  by  Pleasure  or  Pain,  and  that  many  were  unprompted 
by  conscious  intention,  while  others  were  unaccompanied  by 
conscious  sensation,  they  easily  concluded  that  wherever  the 
special  conditions  of  Feeling  were  absent,  the  actions  must 
have  some  other  motors.  Intelligence,  Emotion,  Volition,  and 
Sensation  being  one  by  one  stripped  away  from  all  but  a 
particular  class  of  bodies,  nothing  remained  for  the  other 
bodies  but  insensible  Matter  and  Motion.  This  was  the 
Theoretic  Conception  which  science  substituted  for  the  First 
Notion.  It  was  aided  by  the  observation  .of  the  misleading 
tendency  of  interpreting  physical  phenomena  by  the  human 
standard,  substituting  our  fancies  in  the  place  of  facts,  manipu- 
lating the  order  of  the  universe  according  to  our  imagination 
of  what  it  might  be,  or  ought  to  be.  Hence  the  vigilance  of 
the  new  school  in  suppressing  everything  pertaining  to  the 
subjective  aspect  of  phenomena,  and  the  insistance  on  a 
purely  objective  classification,  so  that  by  this  means  we  might 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  233 

attain  to  a  knowledge  of  things  as  they  are.  By  thus  with- 
drawing Life  and  Mind  from  Nature,  and  regarding  the  uni- 
verse solely  in  the  light  of  Motion  and  the  laws  of  Motion,  two 
great  scientific  ends  were  furthered,  namely,  a  classification  of 
conceptions,  and  a  precision  of  terms.  Objective  phenomena 
made  a  class  apart,  and  the  great  aim  of  research  was  to  find  a 
mathematical  expression  for  all  varieties  under  this  class. 
Masses  were  conceived  as  aggregates  of  Atoms,  and  these  were 
reduced  to  mathematical  points.  Forces  were  only  different 
modes  of  Motion.  All  the  numberless  differences  which  per- 
ception recognized  as  qualities  in  things  were  reduced  to 
mere  variations  in  quantity.  Thus  all  that  was  particular  and 
concrete  became  resolved  by  analysis  into  what  was  general 
and  abstract.  The  Cosmos  then  only  presented  a  problem  of 
mechanics. 

During  this  evolution,  the  old  Dualism  (which  conceived 
a  material  universe  sharply  demarcated  from  the  mental  uni- 
verse) kept  its  ground,  and  attained  even  greater  precision. 
The  logical  distinction  between  Matter  and  Mind  was  ac- 
cepted as  an  essential  distinction,  i.e.  representing  distinct 
reals.  There  was  on  one  side  a  group  of  phenomena,  Matter 
and  Force ;  on  the  other  side  an  unallied  group,  Feeling  and 
Thought ;  between  them  an  impassable  gulf.  How  the  two 
were  brought  into  relation,  each  acting  and  reacting  on  the 
other,  was  dismissed  as  an  "  insoluble  mystery  " — or  relegated 
to  Metaphysics  for  such  minds  as  chose  to  puzzle  over  ques- 
tions not  amenable  to  experiment.  Physics,  confident  in  the 
possession  of  mathematical  and  experimental  methods  which 
yielded  definite  answers  to  properly  restricted  questions, 
peremptorily  refused  to  listen  to  any  suggestion  of  the  kind. 


234  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

And  the  career  of  Physics  was  so  triumphant  that  success 
seemed  to  justify  its  indifference. 

In  our  own  day  this  analytical  school  has  begun  to  extend 
its  methods  even  to  the  mental  group.  Having  reduced  all 
the  objective  group  to  mathematical  treatment,  it  now  tries  to 
bring  the  subjective  group  also  within  its  range.  Not  only 
has  there  been  more  than  one  attempt  at  a  mathematical  Psy- 
chology, but  also  attempts  to  reduce  Sensibility,  in  its  sub- 
jective no  less  than  in  its  objective  aspect,  to  molecular  move- 
ment. Here  also  the  facts  of  Quality  are  translated  into  facts 
of  Quantity  ;  and  all  diversities  of  Feeling  are  interpreted  as 
simply  quantitative  differences. 

Thus  far  the  one  school.  But  while  this  Theoretic  Con- 
ception stripped  Nature  of  consciousness,  motive,  and  pas- 
sion, rendering  it  a  mere  aggregate  of  mathematical  relations, 
a  critical  process  was  going  on,  which,  analyzing  the  nature  of 
Perception,  was  rapidly  moving  toward  another  goal.  Locke, 
Berkeley,  Hume,  and  Kant,  directing  their  analysis  exclusively 
to  the  subjective  aspect  of  phenomena,  soon  broke  down  the 
barriers  between  the  physical  and  mental,  and  gradually 
merged  the  former  in  the  latter.  Matter  and  its  qualities, 
hitherto  accepted  as  independent  realities,  existing  where  no 
Mind  perceived  them,  were  now  viewed  as  the  creations  of 
Mind  —  their  existence  was  limited  to  a  state  of  the  per- 
cipient. The  old  Dualism  was  replaced  by  Idealism.  The 
Cosmos,  instead  of  presenting  a  problem  of  Mechanics,  now 
presented  a  problem  of  Psychology.  Beginning  with  what  are 
called  the  secondary  qualities  of  Matter,  the  psychological 
analysis  resolved  these  into  modes  of  feeling.  "The  heat 
"which  the  vulgar  imagine  to  be  in  the  fire  and  the  color 


THE  CO  URSE  OF  MODERN  THO  UGIIT.  235 

they  imagine  in  the  rose  are  not  there  at  all,  but  are  in  us 
— mere  states  of  our  organism."  Having  gained  this  stand- 
ing-place, there  was  no  difficulty  in  extending  the  view  from 
the  secondary  to  the  primary  qualities.  These  also  were  per- 
cejotions,  and  only  existed  in  the  percipient.  Nothing  then 
remainied  of  Matter  save  the  hypothetical  unknown  ic  —  the 
postulate  of  speculation.  Kant  seemed  for  ever  to  have  closed 
the  door  against  the  real  Cosmos  when  he  transformed  it  into 
a  group  of  mental  forms — Time,  Space,  Causality,  Quantity, 
&c.  He  propounded  what  may  be  called  a  theory  of  mental 
Dioptrics,  whereby  a  pictured  universe  became  possible,  as 
Experience  by  its  own  d,  priori  Xzsss  moulded  iiself  into  a  con- 
sistent group  of  appearances,  which  produced  the  illusion  of 
being  a  group  of  realities.  He  admitted,  indeed,  that  by  the 
operation  of  Causality  we  are  compelled  to  believe  in  a  Real 
underlying  the  appearances  ;  but  the  very  fact  that  this  Cau- 
ality  is  a  subjective  law  is  proof,  he  said,  of  its  not  being  an 
objective  truth.  Thus  the  aim  of  the  mechanical  conception 
was  to  free  research  from  the  misleading  complexities  of  sub- 
jective adulterations,  and  view  things  as  they  are  apart  from 
their  appearances;  but  this  aim  seemed  illusory  when  Psy- 
chology showed  that  Time,  Space,  Matter,  and  Motion  were 
themselves  not  objective  reals  except  in  so  far  as  they  repre- 
sented subjective  necessities ;  and  that,  in  short,  things  are 
just  what  they  appear,  since  it  is  only  in  the  relation  of  exter- 
nal reals  to  internal  feelings  that  objects  exist  for  us. 

Idealism  has  been  the  outcome  of  the  psychological  method. 
It  has  been  of  immense  service  in  rectifying  the  dualistic  con- 
ception, and  in  correcting  the   mechanical  conception.     It 


-236  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

lias  restored  the  subjective  factor,  which  the  mechanical  con- 
ception had  eliminated.  It  has  brought  into  incomparable 
clearness  the  fundamental  fact  that  all  our  knowledge  springs 
from,  and  is  limited  by,  Feeling.  It  has  shown  that  the  uni- 
verse represented  in  that  knowledge  can  only  be  a  picture  of 
the  system  of  things  as  these  exist  in  relation  to  our  Sensibility. 
But  equally  with  the  mechanical  conception  it  has  erred  by 
incomplete  analysis.  For  a  complete  theory  of  the  universe 
or  of  any  one  phenomenon,  those  elementary  conditions  which 
analysis  has  provisionally  set  aside  must  finally  be  restored. 
When  Quality  is  replaced  by  Quantity,  this  is  an  artifice  of 
method,  which  does  not  really  correspond  with  fact.  The 
quality  is  the  fact  given  in  feeling,  which  we  analytically  refer 
to  quantitative  differences,  but  which  can  never  be  wholly  re- 
solved into  them,  since  it  must  be  presupposed  throughout. 
•One  color,  for  example,  may  be  distinguished  from  another 
as  having  more  or  fewer  undulations  ;  and  so  we  may  by  ab- 
straction, letting  drop  all  qualitative  characters,  make  a  scale 
of  undulations  to  represent  a  scale  of  colors.  But  this  is 
an  ideal  figment.  It  is  the  representation  of  one  series  of 
feelings  by  another  series  of  different  feelings.  No  variation 
of  undulations  will  really  correspond  with  variation  in  color, 
unless  we  re-introduce  the  suppressed  quality  which  runs 
through  all  color.  Attempt  to  make  one  born  blind  feel,  or 
even  understand,  Color  by  describing  to  him  the  kind  of 
wave-movement  which  it  is  said  to  be,  and  the  vanity  of  the 
effort  will  be  manifest.  Movement  he  knows,  and  varieties  of 
movement  as  given  in  tactile  and  muscular  sensations ;  but  no 
combination  and  manipulation  of  such  experiences  can  give 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERiV  THOUGHT.  237 

him  the  specific  sensation  of  color.  That  is  a  purely  sub- 
jective state  which  he  is  incapable  of  experiencing,  simply  be- 
cause one  of  the  essential  factors  is  absent.  One  set  of  ob- 
jective conditions  is  present,  but  the  other  set  (his  sense- 
organ)  is  defective.  Without  the  "  greeting  of  the  spirit  "  un- 
dulations cannot  become  colors  (nor  even  undulations,  for 
there  also  are  forms  of  feeling).  Besides  the  sense-organ 
there  is  needed  the  feeling  of  Difference,  which  is  itself  the  pro- 
duct of  past  and  jDresent  feelings.  The  reproduction  of  other 
colors,  or  other  shades  of  color,  is  necessary  to  this  perception 
of  difference  ;  and  this  involves  the  element  of  Likeness  and 
Unlikeness  between  what  is  produced  and  reproduced.  So 
that  a  certain  mental  co-operation  is  requisite  even  for  the 
simplest  perception  of  quality.  In  fact,  psychological  analysis 
shows  that  even  Motion  and  Quantity,  the  two  objective  terms 
to  which  subjective  Quality  is  reduced,  are  themselves  Funda- 
mental Signatures  of  Feeling;^  so  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  it 
is  only  by  analytical  artifice  that  the  objective  can  be  divorced 
from  the  subjective.  Matter  is  for  us  the  Felt ;  its  Qualities 
are  differences  of  feeling. 

Not  that  this  result  is  to  be  interpreted  as  freeing  our 
Theoretic  Conception  from  its  objective  side,  and  landing  us 
in  Idealism,  which  suppresses  the  real  universe.  The  denial 
of  all  reality  apart  from  our  minds  is  a  twofold  mistake  ;  it 
confounds  the  conception  of  general  relations  with  particular 
relations,  declaring  that  because  the  External  in  its  relation  to 
the  sentient  organism  can  only  be  what  it  is  felt  to  be,  there- 

I  Not  transcendental  and  i  priori,  as  Kant  teaches,  but  immanent  in 
Feeling 


238  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

fore  it  can  have  no  other  relations  to  other  individual  reals. 
This  is  the  first  mistake.  The  second  is  the  disregard  of  the 
constant  presence  of  the  objective  real  in  every  fact  of  Feel- 
ing :  the  Not-Self  is  emphatically  present  in  every  conscious- 
ness of  Self. 

The  legitimate  conclusion  is  neither  that  of  Dualism  nor 
of  Idealism,  but  what  I  have  named  Reasoned  Realism 
("Problems,"  vol.  i.  p.  176),  which  reconciles  Common  Sense 
with  Speculative  Logic,  by  showing  that  although  the  truth 
of  things  (their  Wahrheit)  is  jiist  what  we  perceive  in  them 
(our  Wahrnchmting),  yet  their  reality  is  this,  and  much  more 
than  this.  Things  are  what  they  are  felt  to  be ;  and  what 
they  are  thought  to  be,  when  thoughts  are  symbols  of  the  per- 
ceptions. Idealism  declares  that  they  are  nothing  but  this. 
It  is  against  this  nothing  but  that  Common  Sense  protests ; 
and  the  protest  is  justified  by  Reasoned  Realism,  which, 
taking  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the  facts,  thus  answers  the 
idealist :  "  Your  synthesis  is  imperfect,  since  it  does  not  in- 
clude all  the  data — notably  it  excludes  the  fact  of  an  objec- 
tive or  Not-Self  element  in  ever)'  feeling.  You  may,  con- 
ceivably, regard  the  whole  universe  as  nothing  but  a  series  of 
changes  in  your  consciousness  ;  but  you  cannot  hope  to  con- 
vince me  that  I  myself  am  simply  a  change  in  yourself,  or 
that  my  body  is  only  a  fleeting  image  in  your  mind.  Hence, 
although  I  conclude  that  the  Not-Self  is  to  you,  as  to  me,  un- 
divorceable  from  Self,  inalienable  from  Feeling,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  felt,  yet  there  must  nevertheless  be  for  both  of  us  an  ex- 
istence not  wholly  coextensive  with  our  own.  My  world  may 
be  my  picture  of  it ;  your  world  may  be  your  picture  of  it  \ 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  TifOUGHT.  239 

but  there  is  something  common  to  both  which  is  more  than 
either — an  existent  which  has  different  relations  to  each. 
You  are  not  me,  nor  is  the  pictured  Cosmos  me,  although  I 
picture  it.  Looking  at  you  and  it,  I  see  a  vast  whole  of  which 
you  are  a  small  part ;  and  such  a  part  I  conclude  myself  to 
be.  It  is  at  once  a  picture  and  the  pictured  ;  at  once  sub- 
jective and  objective.  To  me  all  your  modes  of  existence  are 
objective  aspects,  which,  drawn  from  my  own  experience,  I 
believe  to  have  corresponding  subjective  aspects;  so  that 
your  emotions,  which  to  me  are  purely  physical  facts,  are  to 
you  purely  mental  facts.  And  psychological  analysis  assures 
me  that  tCA  physical  facts  are  mental  facts  expressed  in  objective 
terms,  and  mental  facts  are  physical  facts  expressed  in  subjective 
terms  y 

But  while  Philosophy  thus  replaces  the  conceptions  of 
Dualiiim  and  Idealism  by  the  conception  of  the  Twofold  As- 
pect, the  special  sciences  in  their  analytical  career  have  disre- 
garded the  problem  altogether.  The  mechanical  theory  of 
the  universe  not  only  simplified  research  by  confining  itself 
solely  to  the  objective  aspect  of  phenomena,  but  by  a  further 
simplification  set  aside  all  vital  and  chemical  relations,  to  deal 
exclusively  with  mechanical  relations.  In  ascertaining  the 
mathematical  relations  of  the  planetary  system,  no  elucidation 
could  possibly  be  gained  from  biological  or  chemical  concep- 
tions ;  the  planets  therefore  were  provisionally  stripped  of 
everything  not  mechanical.  In  systematizing  the  laws  of  mo- 
tion, it  was  necessary  to  disengage  the  abstract  relations  from 
everything  in  any  way  resembling  spontaneity,  or  extra  me- 
chanical agency  :  Matter  was  therefore,  by  a  bold  fiction,  de- 


24©  'QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

clared  to  be  inert,  and  its  motion  regarded   as  something 
superadded  from  without. 

And  this  was  indispenable  for  the  construction  of  those 
ideal  laws  which  are  the  objects  of  scientific  research.  Science, 
as  we  often  say,  is  the  systematization  of  Experience  under 
the  forms  of  ideal  constructions.  Experience  implies  Feeling 
and  certain  fundamental  Signatures,  all  reducible  to  the  pri- 
mary discernment  of  Likeness  and  Unlikeness.  Hence  Science 
is  first  di  classification  of  qualities  or  discerned  likenesses  and 
differences  ;  next  a  measurement  of  quantities  of  discerned 
likenesses  and  differences.  Although  measurement  is  itself 
a  species  of  classification,  it  is  distinguished  by  the  adoption 
of  a  standard  unit  of  comparison,  which,  being  precise  and 
unvarying,  enables  us  to  express  the  comparisons  in  precise 
and  unvarying  symbols.  Whether  the  unit  of  length  adopted 
be  an  inch,  a  foot,  a  yard,  a  mile,  the  distance  of  the  earth 
from  the  sun,  or  the  distances  of  the  fixed  stars,  the  quanti- 
ties thus  measured  are  symbols  admitting  of  one  invariable  in- 
terpretation. The  exactness  of  the  mathematical  sciences  is 
just  this  precision  and  invariability  of  their  symbols,  and  is 
not,  as  commonly  supposed,  the  source  of  any  superior  cer- 
tainty as  to  the  facts.  The  classificatory  sciences,  which  deal 
with  qualities  rather  than  with  quantities,  may  be  equally  r^r- 
/«/«,  and  represent  fuller  knowIedge,\i^C2i\x%Q.  involving  more 
varied  feelings,  but  they  cannot  pretend  to  exactness.  Even 
on  the  quantitative  side,  certainty  is  not  identical  with  exact- 
ness. I  may  be  quite  certain  that  one  block  of  marble  is 
larger  than  another — meaning  that  it  affects  me  more  volum- 
inously— but  I  cannot  know  how  much  larger  it  is  without  in- 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  241 

terpreting  my  feelings  by  the  standard  of  quantity— the  how- 
muchness  as  represented  by  that  standard.  The  immense 
advantages  of  exact  measurement  need  not  be  insisted  on. 
The  Biological  Sciences,  which  are  predominantly  classifica- 
tory,  can  never  rival  the  Cosmological  Sciences  in  exactness  ; 
but  they  may  reach  a  fuller  knowledge ;  and  their  certainty 
will  assume  more  and  more  the  character  of  exactness  as 
methods  of  measurement  are  applied  to  their  classifications 
of  qualities.  The  qualitative  and  quantitative  aspects  of 
phenomena  are  handled  by  the  two  great  instruments,  Logic 
and  Mathematics,  the  second  being  only  a  special  form  of 
the  first.  These  determine  the  general  conceptions  which 
are  derived  from  our  perceptions,  and  the  whole  constitute 
Experience. 

What  is  the  conclusion  to  which  these  considerations  lead  ? 
It  is  that  the  separation  of  the  quantitative  from  the  quali- 
tative aspect  of  phenomena — the  objective  mechanical  from 
the  subjective  psychological — is  a  logical  artifice  indispen- 
sable to  research  ;  but  it  is  only  an  artifice.^  In  pursuance 
of  this  artifice,  each  special  science  must  be  regarded  as  the 
search  after  special  analytical  results ;  and  meanwhile  this 
method  should  be  respected,  and  no  confusion  of  the  bound- 
aries between  one  science  and  another  should  be  suft'ered. 
Mechanical  problems  must  not  be  confused  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  biological  relations.  Biological  problems  must  not 
be  restricted  to  mechanical  relations.     I  do  not  mean  that 

*  The  reader  will  understand  that  although  mechanical  relations  are 
modes  of  Feeling,  as  all  other  relations  are,  yet  their  aspect  is  exclusively 
objective,  referring  to  objects  ideally  detached  from  subjects. 

16 


242  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

the  mechanical  relations  present  in  biological  phenomena 
are  not  to  be  sought,  and,  when  found,  to  be  expressed  in 
mechanical  terms ;  I  mean  that  such  an  inquiry  must  be 
strictly  limited  to  mechanical  relations.  Subjective  relations 
are  not  to  be  denied,  because  they  are  provisionally  set  aside, 
in  an  inquiry  into  objective  relations  ;  but  we  must  carefully 
distinguish  which  of  the  two  orders  we  are  treating  of,  and 
express  each  in  its  appropriate  terms.  This  is  constantly 
neglected.  For  example,  nothing  is  more  common  than  to 
meet  such  a  phrase  as  this :  "  A  sensory  impression  is  trans- 
mitted as  a  wave  of  motion  to  the  brain,  and  there  being  trans- 
formed into  a  state  of  conseiousnesr,  is  again  reflected  as  a 
motor  impulse." 

The  several  sciences  having  attained  certain  analytical  re- 
sults, it  remains  for  Philosophy  to  co-ordinate  these  into  a 
doctrine  which  will  furnish  general  conceptions  of  the  World, 
Man,  and  Society.  On  the  analytical  side  a  mechanical 
theory  of  the  universe  might  be  perfected,  but  it  would  still 
only  be  a  theory  of  mechanical  relations,  leaving  all  other 
relations  to  be  expressed  in  other  terms.  We  cannot  accept 
the  statement  of  Descartes  that  Nature  is  a  vast  mechanism, 
and  Science  an  universal  application  of  mathematics.  The 
equation  of  a  sphere,  however  valuable  from  a  geometrical 
point  of  view,  is  useless  as  an  explanation  of  the  nature  and 
properties  of  the  spherical  body  in  other  relations.  And  so 
a  complete  theory  of  the  mechanical  relations  of  the  organ- 
ism, however  valuable  in  itself,  would  be  worthless  in  the 
solution  of  a  biological  problem,  unless  supplemented  by  all 
that  mechanical  terms  are  incompetent  to  express. 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  243 

The  course  of  biological  speculation  has  been  similar  to 
the  cosmological.  It  also  began  with  a  First  Notion,  which 
compendiously  expressed  the  facts  of  Experience,  Nor  can 
any  Theoretic  Conception  be  finally  adopted  which  does 
away  with  these  facts,  known  with  positive  certainty,  and 
popularly  expressed  in  the  phrase :  "  I  have  a  body,  and  a 
soul."  We  may  alter  the  phrase  either  into,  *'  I  am  a  body, 
and  I  am  a  soul ; "  or  into  "  My  body  is  only  the  manifesta- 
tion of  my  soul ; "  or,  "  My  soul  is  only  a  function  of  my 
body ; "  but  the  fundamental  experiences  which  are  thus  ex- 
pressed are  of  absolute  authority,  no  matter  how  they  may 
be  interpreted.  That  I  have  a  body,  or  am  a  body,  is  not 
to  be  speculatively  argued  away.  That  I  move  my  arm  to 
strike  the  man  who  has  offended  me,  or  stretch  out  my  hand 
to  seize  the  fruit  which  I  see,  is  unquestionable  ;  that  these 
movements  are  determined  by  these  feelings,  and  are  never 
thus  effected  unless  thus  determined,  is  also  unquestionable. 
Here  are  two  sets  of  phenomena,  having  well-marked  differ- 
ences of  aspect;  and  they  are  grouped  respectively  under 
two  general  heads,  Life  and  Mind.  Life  is  assigned  to  the 
physical  organism,  or  Body — all  its  phenomena  are  objective. 
Mind  is  assigned  to  the  psychical  organism,  or  Soul — all  its 
phenomena  are  subjective.  Although  what  is  called  my 
Body  is  shown  to  be  a  group  of  qualities  which  are  feelings 
— its  color,  form,  solidity,  position,  motion — all  its  physical 
attributes  being  what  is  felt  by  us  in  consequence  of  the  laws 
of  our  organization  ;  yet  inasmuch  as  these  feelings  have  the 
characteristic  marks  of  objectivity,  and  are  thereby  referred 
to  some  objective  existence,  we  draw  a  broad  line  of  demar- 


244  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

cation  between  them  and  other  feelings  having  the  charac- 
teristic marks  of  subjectivity,  and  referring  to  ourselves  as 
subjects.  Psychological  analysis  shows  us  that  this  line  of 
demarcation  is  artificial,  only  representing  a  diversity  of  as- 
pect; but  as  such  it  is  indispensable  to  science.  We  cannot 
really  separate  in  a  sensation  what  is  objective  from  what  is 
subjective,  and  say  how  much  belongs  to  the  Cosmos  apart 
from  Sensibility,  and  how  much  to  the  subject  pure  and 
simple  ;  we  can  only  view  the  sensation  alternately  in  its  ob- 
jective and  subjective  aspects.  What  belongs  to  extra- 
mental  existence  in  the  phenomena  of  color,  and  what  to 
the  "  greeting  of  the  spirit,"  is  utterly  beyond  human  knowl- 
edge ;  for  the  ethereal  undulations  which  physicists  presup- 
pose as  the  cosmic  condition  are  themselves  subjected  to 
this  same  greeting  of  the  spirit  j  they  too  are  ideal  forms  of 
sensible  experiences. 

This  conclusion,  however,  was  very  slowly  reached.  The 
distinction  of  aspects  was  made  the  ground  of  a  correspond- 
ing distinction  in  agencies.  Each  group  was  personified  and 
isolated.  The  one  group  was  personified  in  Spirit — an  ex- 
istent in  every  respect  opposed  to  Matter,  which  was  the 
existent  represented  in  the  other  group.  One  was  said  to 
be  simple,  indestructible ;  the  other  compound,  destructible. 
One  was  invisible,  impalpable,  beyond  the  grasp  of  Sense  ; 
the  other  was  visible,  tangible,  sensible.  One  was  of  heaven, 
the  other  of  earth.  Thus  a  biological  Dualism,  analogous  to 
the  cosmological,  replaced  the  First  Notion.  It  was  under- 
mined by  advances  in  two  directions.  Psychology  began  to 
disclose  that  our  conception  of  matter  was,  to  say  the  least, 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  245 

saturated  \i\\h.Wvcvdi,\\s  Atoms  confessedly  being  ideal  fig- 
ments ;  and  that  all  the  terms  by  which  we  expressed  mate- 
rial qualities  were  terms  which  expressed  modes  of  Feeling ;  so 
that  whatever  remained  over  and  above  this  was  the  unknown 
vT,  which  speculation  required  as  a  postulate.  Idealism,  re- 
jecting this  postulate,  declared  that  Matter  was  simply  the 
projection  of  Mind,  and  that  our  Body  was  the  objectivation 
of  our  Soul.  Physiology  began  to  disclose  that  all  the  men- 
tal processes  were  (mathematically  speaking)  functions  of 
physical  processes,  /.  e.  varying  with  the  variations  of  bodily 
states ;  and  this  was  declared  enough  to  banish  forever  the 
conception  of  a  Soul,  except  as  a  term  simply  expressing 
certain  functions. 

Idealism  and  Materialism  are  equally  destructive  of  Dual- 
ism. The  defects  of  particular  idealist  and  materialist 
theories  we  will  not  here  touch  upon  ;  they  mainly  result 
from  defects  of  Method.  Not  sufficiently  recognizing  the 
primary  fact  testified  by  Consciousness,  namely,  that  Ex- 
perience expresses  both  physical  and  mental  aspects,  and 
that  a  Not-Self  is  everywhere  indissolubly  interwoven  with 
Self,  an  objective  factor  with  a  subjective  factor,  the  idealist 
reduces  Existence  to  a  mere  panorama  of  mental  states,  and 
the  Body  to  a  group  in  this  panorama.  He  is  thus  incapable 
of  giving  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  all  the  objective  phe- 
nomena which  do  not  follow  in  the  same  order  as  his  feel- 
ings, which  manifest  a  succession  unlike  his  expectation,  and 
which  he  cannot  class  under  the  order  of  his  mental  states 
hitherto  experienced.  He  conceives  that  it  is  the  Mind 
"nMxcHa.  prescribes  the  order  in  Things  ;  whereas  experience  as- 


246  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

sures  us  that  the  order  is  described,  not  prescribed  by  us  : 
described  in  terms  of  Feeling,  but  determined  by  the  laws 
of  Things.  The  genesis  of  subjective  phenomena  is  deter- 
mined by  the  action  of  the  Cosmos  on  our  Sensibility,  and 
the  reaction  of  our  Sensibility.  He  overlooks  the  evi- 
dence that  the  mental  forms  or  laws  of  thought  which  de- 
termine the  character  of  particular  experiences,  were 
themselves  evolved  through  a  continual  action  and  reac- 
tion of  the  Cosmos  and  the  Soul,  precisely  as  the  laws  of 
organic  action  which  determine  the  character  of  partic- 
ular functions  were  evolved  through  a  continual  adapta- 
tion of  the  organism  to  the  medium.  These  immanent 
laws  are  declared  to  be  transcendental,  antecedent  to  all 
such  action  and  reaction. 

A  similar  exclusiveness  vitiates  the  materialist  doctrine. 
Overlooking  the  primary  fact  that  Feeling  is  indissolubly  in- 
terwoven with  processes  regarded  as  purely  physical  because 
they  are  considered  solely  in  their  objective  aspect,  the  ma- 
terialist fails  to  recognize  the  operation  of  psychological  laws 
in  the  determination  of  physiological  results ;  he  hopes  to  re- 
duce Biology  to  a  problem  of  Mechanics.  But  Vitality  and 
Sensibility  are  coefficients  which  must  render  the  mechanical 
problem  insoluble,  if  only  on  the  ground  that  mechanical 
principles  have  reference  to  quantitative  relations,  whereas 
vital  relations  are  qualitative.  His  error  is  the  obverse  of 
the  vitalist's  error.  The  vitalist  imagines  that  the  speciality 
of  organic  phenomena  proves  the  existence  of  a  cause  which 
has  no  community  with  the  forces  operating  elsewhere ;  so 
turning  his  back  on  all  the  evidence,  he  attempts  to  explain 


THE  COURSE  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  247 

organic  phenomena  without  any  aid  from  Physics  and  Chem- 
istry. The  materialist,  turning  his  back  on  all  the  evidence 
of  quite  special  conditions,  only  found  at  work  in  living  or- 
ganisms, tries  to  explain  the  problem  solely  by  the  aid  of 
Physics  and  Chemistry.  It  is  quite  certain  that  physiological 
and  psychological  problems  are  not  to  be  solved  if  we  disre- 
gard the  laws  of  Evolution  through  Epige  nesis.  The  mental 
structure  is  evolved,  as  the  physical  structure  is  evolved.  It 
is  quite  certain  that  no  such  evolution  is  visible  in  an  organ- 
ism, nor  will  any  one  suppose  it  to  be  possible  in  machines. 
From  the  biological  point  of  view  we  must  therefore  reject 
both  Idealism  and  Materialism.  We  applaud  the  one  when 
it  says,  "  Don't  confuse  mental  facts  by  the  introduction  of 
physical  hypotheses  ; "  and  the  other  when  it  says,  "  Don't 
darken  physical  facts  with  metaphysical  mists."  We  say  to 
both  :  "  By  all  means  make  clear  to  yourselves  which  aspect 
of  the  phenomena  you  are  dealing  with,  and  express  each  in 
its  own  terms.  But  in  endeavoring  to  understand  a  phenom- 
enon you  must  take  into  account  all  its  ascertainable  con- 
ditions. Now  these  conditions  are  sometimes  only  approach- 
able from  the  objective  side  ;  at  other  times  only  from  the 
subjective  side." 

While  it  is  necessary  to  keep  the  investigation  of  a  pro- 
cess on  its  objective  side  limited  to  objective  conditions,  and 
to  express  the  result  in  objective  terms,  we  must  remember 
that  this  is  an  artifice  ;  above  all,  we  must  remember  that 
even  within  the  objective  limits  our  analyses  are  only  pro- 
visional, and  must  be  finally  rectified  by  a  restoration  of  all 
the  elements  we  have  provisionally  set  aside.    Thus  rectified. 


248  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

the  objective  interpretation  of  vital  and  mental  phenomena 
has  the  incomparable  advantage  of  simplifying  research, 
keeping  it  fixed  on  physical  processes,  instead  of  being  per- 
turbed by  suggestions  of  metaphysical  processes.  And  as  all 
physical  investigation  naturally  tends  to  reduce  itself  to  a 
mechanical  investigation,  because  Mechanics  is  the  science 
of  Motion,  and  all  physical  processes  are  motions,  we  may  be 
asked,  Why  should  not  the  mechanical  point  of  view  be  the 
rational  standing-point  of  the  biologist  ?  Our  answer  is,  Be- 
cause Mechanics  concerns  itself  with  abstract  relations,  and 
treats  of  products  without  reference  to  modes  of  production, 
/.  e.  with  motions  without  reference  to  all  the  conditions  on 
which  they  depend.  Every  physical  change,  if  expressed  in 
physical  terms,  is  a  change  of  position,  and  is  determined  by 
some  preceding  change  of  position.  It  is  a  movement  hav- 
ing a  certain  velocity  and  direction,  which  velocity  and  direc- 
tion are  determined  by  the  velocity  and  direction  of  a  force 
(a  pressure  or  a  tension)  compounded  with  the  forces  of  re- 
sistance, i.e.  counter-pressures.  Clearly,  the  nature  of  the 
forces  in  operation  must  be  taken  into  account ;  and  it  is 
this  which  the  mechanical  view  disregards,  the  biological  re- 
gards. The  mechanical  view  is  fixed  on  the  ascertained  ad- 
justment of  the  parts,  so  that  the  working  of  the  organism 
may  be  explained  as  if  it  were  a  machine,  a  movement  here 
liberating  a  movement  there.  The  biological  view  includes 
this  adjustment  of  parts,  but  takes  in  also  the  conditions  of 
molecular  change  in  the  parts  on  which  the  adjustment 
dynamically  depends.  Mechanical  actions  maybe  expressed 
as  the  enlargement  or  diminution  of  the  angle  of  two  levers  ; 


THE  COURSE  OFMODERN  THOUGHT.  249 

but  chemical  actions  are  not  thus  expressible  ;  still  less  vital 
and  mental  actions. 

The  organism  is  on  the  physical  side  a  mechanism,  and  so 
long  as  the  mechanical  interpretation  of  organic  phenomena 
is  confined  to  expressing  the  mechanical  principles  involved 
in  the  mechanical  relations,  it  is  eminently  to  be  applauded. 
But  the  organism  is  something  more  than  a  mechanism,  even 
on  the  physical  side ;  or,  since  this  statement  may  be  mis- 
understood, let  me  say,  what  no  one  will  dispute,  that  the 
organism  is  a  mechanism  of  a  very  special  kind,  in  many 
cardinal  points  unlike  all  machines.  This  difference  of  kind 
brings  with  it  a  difference  of  causal  conditions.  In  so  far  as 
the  actions  of  this  mechanism  are  those  of  a  dependent 
sequence  of  material  positions,  they  are  actions  expressible  in 
mechanical  terms  ;  but  in  so  far  as  these  actions  are  depend- 
ent on  vital  processes,  they  are  not  expressible  in  mechanical 
terms.  Vital  facts,  especially  facts  of  sensibility,  have  factors 
neither  discernible  in  machines  nor  expressible  in  mechanical 
terms.  We  cannot  ignore  them,  although  for  analytical  pur- 
poses we  may  provisionally  set  them  aside. 

In  the  course  of  the  development  of  the  mechanical 
theory,  the  history  of  which  has  just  been  briefly  sketched, 
biological  problems  have  more  and  more  come  under  its  in- 
fluence. There  has  always  been  a  fierce  resistance  to  the 
attempt  to  explain  vital  and  sentient  phenomena  on  mechani- 
cal, or  even  physical  principles,  but  still  the  question  has  in- 
cessantly recurred.  How  far  is  the  organism  mechanically 
interpretable  ?    And  while  the  progress  of  Biology  has  shown 


250  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

more  and  more  the  machine-like  adjustment  of  the  several 
parts  of  which  the  organism  is  composed,  it  has  also  shown 
more  and  more  the  intervention  of  conditions  not  mechani- 
cally interpretable. 


THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 
THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND} 

BY  THOMAS  HUGHES. 

I  think  that  many  of  those  whom  I  am  about  to  address  in 
this  College  ^  on  the  condition  and  prospects  of  our  National 
Church,  may  very  probably  be  asking  themselves  at  this 
moment  what  possible  claim  I  can  have  to  do  so,  or  what 
possible  good  can  come  of  anything  I  may  say.  I,  at  any  rate, 
very  readily  admit  that  such  questions  would  be  most  reason- 
able, so  perhaps  a  few  preliminary  words  of  explanation  may 
not  be  out  of  place. 

It  was  some  months  ago,  before  the  late  occurrences  at 
Hatcham  and  all  that  has  followed  on  them,  that  the  proposal 
was  made  to  me.  Even  then  I  had  serious  doubt  as  to  ac- 
cepting, and  ultimately  did  so  with  some  reluctance.  The 
doubt  arose  from  a  genuine  belief  that  I  had  much  more  to 
learn  from  than  to  teach  the  members  of  Sion  College  on  such 
a  subject.  It  is  true  that  I  had  been  asked  to  speak  or  lecture 
on  the  Church  question  at  Birmingham,  Norwich,  and  else- 

1  The  Contemporary  Review,  May,  1877. 

2  This  article  was  delivered  as  an  address,  at  Sion  College,  March  13th, 


252  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

where :  but  those  addresses  were  delivered  to  popular  au- 
diences, to  whom  I  had  been  asked  to  speak  as  a  politician, 
and  at  times  when  this  great  controversy  was  in  a  very- 
different  phase.  But  in  this  place  I  knew  that  I  should  be 
addressing  an  audience  of  experts,  the  metropolitan  represen- 
tatives of  the  great  profession  (or  "  calling,"  to  use  the  better 
word)  of  ordained  ministers  of  the  National  Church — a  very 
different  and  much  more  serious  matter.     Hence  my  doubt. 

My  reluctance  arose  from  a  dislike  to  stir  still  waters, 
and  raise  discussion  upon  grave  matters  at  a  time  when 
there  seemed  no  pressing  need  for  action  or  decision  with 
regard  to  them.  And  I  own  that  the  earlier  part  of  the  past 
year  appeared  to  me  to  bear  many  signs  of  such  a  time  \  for 
the  usual  motions,  pointing  to  a  severance  of  Church  and 
State,  or  to  reconstruction  or  reform  of  one  kind  or  another, 
had  not  been  made  in  the  House  of  Commons.  In  the  ad- 
dresses of  members  and  candidates  to  constituencies  last 
autumn,  when  reference  was  made  to  the  Church  question, 
it  was  generally  treated  as  a  kind  of  neutral  territory  in  pol- 
itics, even  advanced  Liberals,  like  Mr.  Leonard  Courtney, 
declaring,  that  though  they  were  theoretically  in  favor  of 
the  entire  severance  of  Church  and  State  when  the  proper 
time  might  come,  yet  they  saw  no  sign  of  its  coming, 
and  deprecated  any  attempt  to  force  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  one  most  important  Church  reform,  the  full  mean- 
ing of  which  has  never  been  popularly  appreciated,  —  I 
mean  the  subdivision  of  dioceses  and  the  appointment  of 
Suffragan  Bishops  who  should  not  be  Peers  of  Parliament, — 
had  made  great  progress,  almost.without  opposition  from  the 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  253 

non -conforming  bodies  or  the  Liberation  Society.  Thus  far 
the  time  seemed  one  for  letting  well  alone,  and  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  desired  to  do  so  then,  but  for  the  smouldering 
discontent  already  too  apparent  in  one  extreme  wing  of  the 
National  clergy.  In  view  of  this,  however,  it  seemed  to  me 
possibly  worth  while  to  put  forward  at  Sion  College  a  lay  view 
of  the  matters  which  were  causing  such  discontent  amongst  a 
section  of  Churchmen.  So  with  this  view  I  overcame  my  re- 
luctance, never  dreaming  that  before  I  should  address  you 
here,  this  smouldering  fire  would  have  burst  into  ablaze  ;  that 
we  should  have,  on  the  one  hand,  the  Church  Union  publicly 
denying  the  right  of  the  nation  to  control  the  clergy,  and 
clergymen  declaring  that  they  "  will  labor  night  and  day  to 
set  the  Church  of  England  free  from  a  persecuting  State  ; "  on 
the  other  hand,  the  Liberationists,  reassured  at  hearing  their 
own  war-cries  issuing  from  within  what  they  are  used  to  regard 
as  the  hostile  camp,  openly  preparing  for  a  campaign  which 
they  seem  to  think  may  be  the  final  one. 

Had  I  been  able  to  foresee  such  a  state  of  things,  I  can- 
didly confess  that  I  should  have  declined  this  invitation.  The 
prospect  is  to  me  altogether  too  sad  and  too  confusing,  and 
the  issues  are  at  present  so  undefined,  and  the  forces  on 
either  side  so  undeveloped,  that  I  would  very  gladly  have  been 
silent,  at  any  rate  till  I  could  see  more  clearly  how  the  great 
controversy  was  shaping  itself,  and  what  it  behoved  one  to 
say  or  do  in  this  matter  who  looks  upon  the  connection  of 
Church  and  State — of  the  spiritual  and  temporal  life  of  the 
nation,  as  it  exists,  and  has  existed  in  England  ever  since  we 
were  a  nation — as  a  part  of  our  national  inheritance  which  it 


254  ^^^  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

would  be  a  grievous  misfortune,  and  an  irreparable  misfortune, 
lo  lose. 

I  am  here,  however,  to  speak  to  you  on  the  subject,  and 
must  do  so  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  glad  at  any  rate  that 
you  will  hear  the  views  frankly  expressed  of  what  I  believe  to 
be  a  much  larger  proportion  than  is  generally  supposed  of 
ordinary  English  Churchmen — laymen  who  have  no  strong 
bias  for  or  against  any  party  in  the  Church  ;  who  have  neither 
time  nor  taste  for  the  lamentable  party  wrestling-matches  got 
up  by  the  (so-called)  religious  press  and  societies ;  but  only 
desire  to  use  themselves  in  peace,  and  to  hand  down  to 
their  children,  the  opportunities  for  Christian  worship  and 
Christian  living  which  have  served  their  forefathers  for 
so  many  generations  —  improved  and  reformed  to  suit  the 
needs  of  a  new  time,  but  still  an  inalienable  part  of  the 
birthright  of  every  English  child.  I  repeat  that  I  be- 
lieve— anld,  as  one  who  has  had  much  intercourse  with  all 
classes  of  our  society,  and  has  for  years  been  much  exercised 
by  this  question,  have  broad  grounds  for  my  belief — that  this 
class  is  a  far  larger  one  than  is  commonly  allowed.  And  it 
would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose,  because  they  make  no 
strife  or  fuss  about  their  religion,  that  they  do  not  really  care 
about  it.  It  is  often  assumed,  nowadays,  that  the  bulk  of  our 
Church  laity  are  mere  formalists,  supporting  religion  because 
they  believe  the  parson  to  be  the  most  powerful  kind  of 
policeman  ;  and  ready  to  welcome  whatever  form  of  new 
worship,  or  no-worship,  may  come  next,  when  criticism  and 
science  shall  have  dealt  finally  with  the  supernatural  and 
Christianity,  so  long  only  as  some  form  or  other  be  left  to  keep 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  255 

the  common  folk  in  order,  and  their  own  wives  and  children 
quiet.  On  the  contrary,  we  (for  I  must  rank  myself  in  their 
number)  are  thoroughly  satisfied  that  Christianity  is  in  no 
more  real  danger  now  than  it  was  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  when  Dean  Swift,  and  many  other  greater  wits  than 
we  have  amongst  us  nowadays,  thought  and  said  that  it  was 
doomed.  We  hold  in  perfect  goo^  faith  that  the  good  news 
our  Lord  brought  is  the  best  the  world  will  ever  hear ;  that 
there  has  been  a  revelation  in  the  Man  Jesus  Christ,  of  God 
the  Creator  of  the  world  as  our  Father,  so  that  the  humblest 
and  poorest  man  can  know  God  for  all  purposes  for  which 
men  need  to  know  Him  in  this  life,  and  can  have  his  help  in 
becoming  like  him,  the  business  for  which  they  were  sent  into 
it ;  and  that  there  will  be  no  other  revelation,  though  this  one 
will  be,  through  all  time,  unfolding  to  men  more  and  more  of 
its  unspeakable  depth  and  glory  and  beauty,  in  external 
nature,  in  human  society,  in  individual  men.  That  I  believe 
to  be  a  fair  statement  of  the  positive  religious  belief  of  aver- 
age Englishmen,  if  they  had  to  think  it  out  and  to  put  it  in 
words  ;  and  all  who  hold  it  must  of  course  look  upon  Christ's 
gospel  as  the  great  purifying,  reforming,  redeeming  power  in 
the  world,  and  desire  that  it  shall  be  free  to  work  in  their  own 
country  on  the  most  favorable  conditions  which  can  be  found 
for  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  a  number  of  matters  which 
have  been  commonly  insisted  upor  in  England  as  part  of 
Christianity,  as  to  many  of  which  the  kind  of  Englishmen  I 
am  speaking  of  have  come  to  have  no  belief  at  all  one  way  or 
the  other.     They  have  no  time  to  spare  for  such  subjects,  and 


256  THE  COXpiTION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

do  not  feel  it  needful  for  their  higher  life  that  they  should 
make  up  their  minds,  for  instance,  as  to  the  exact  quality  of 
the  inspiration  of  Scripture,  the  origin  of  evil,  the  method  of 
the  Atonement,  the  nature  and  effect  of  sacraments,  justifi- 
cation, conversion,  and  other  much-debated  matters.  As  to 
another  class  of  ecclesiastical  subjects,  such  as  Apostolical 
succession,  and  all  the  priestly  and  mediatorial  claims  which 
are  founded  on  it,  they  have  indeed  made  up  their  minds 
thoroughly,  and  believe  them  to  be  men's  fables,  mischievous 
and  misleading  to  those  who  teach  and  those  who  learn — to 
priests  and  people  alike. 

Probably  many  of  my  hearers  will  consider  such  a  belief 
as  this  too  vague  to  be  of  any  practical  value  ;  but  at  any  rate, 
as  a  fact,  there  it  is,  and  it  has  to  be  acknowledged  and  ac- 
counted with  as  a  fact  in  dealing  with  this  Church  question. 
And,  as  a  rule,  while  it  hinders  those  who  hold  it  from  attach- 
ing any  exaggerated  or  superstitious  importance  to  one  form 
or  another  of  Church  organization,  it  inclines  them  to  respect 
and  value  that  which  they  find  to  have  been  thought  out  and 
beaten  out  by  successive  generations,  and  to  have  brought  the 
nation  safely  at  least,  and  not  without  honour,  so  far.  Such 
a  man  is  therefore  generally  an  attached,  though  not  an  en- 
thusiastic Churchman,  and  in  the  main  for  the  following 
reasons : — 

First,  the  historical.  Our  time  is  not  one  in  which  any 
institution  is  able  to  stand  on  its  pedigree  only,  but  it  is  also 
one  in  which  we  are  bound  to  be  specially  careful  of  any 
wholesome  links  which  bind  us  to  the  past,  and  make  our  his- 
tory one  of  steady  and  connected  life  and  progress.     And 


I 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  257 

from  this  point  of  view  the  national  Church  is  beyond  all 
question  the  most  venerable  of  our  institutions,  and  as  in- 
timately bound  up  with  the  national  life  as  the  Monarchy  or 
the  Houses  of  Parliament.  The  latest  and  best  historian  of 
the  Conquest  describes  the  England  of  1066  as  "a  land 
where  the  Church  and  nation  were  but  different  names  for  the 
same  community;  a  'land  where  priests  and  prelates  were 
subject  to  the  law  like  other  men  ;  a  land  where  the  King 
and  the  witan  gave  away  the  staif  of  the  bishop  ; "  adding 
that  "  such  a  land  was  more  dangerous  in  the  eyes  of  Rome 
than  one  of  Jews  or  Saracens." 

And  through  the  long  four  hundred  years'  struggle  with 
the  Papacy,  the  same  description  holds  good ;  and  in  every 
great  crisis  the  Church  and  nation  has  held  together  as  one 
community.  When  k  Becket  backed  the  Pope's  claim  to 
make  Church  Courts  supreme  over  the  clergy,  and  to  exempt 
them  from  the  national  tribunals,  the  King  answered  by  the 
Constitutions  of  Clarendon,  which  declared  the  Church  to  be 
part  and  parcel  of  the  nation,  and  the  clergy  amenable  to  the 
civil  law  like  all  other  citizens ;  and  those  Constitutions  were 
supported  by  clergy  and  laity  alike. 

When  the  King,  backed  by  the  Pope,  refused  the  de- 
mands of  the  nation  for  the  Great  Charter,  it  was  Arch- 
bishop Langton  who  headed  the  barons.  Two  of  the  three 
sureties  to  whom  John  was  bound  for  its  fulfilment  were 
bishops,  and  the  first  nine  names  are  those  of  Church  digni- 
taries. Again  and  again  the  identity  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land with  the  nation  was  upheld  ;  sometimes  by  bishops, 
as    when    Robert  Grostete  flatly  refused  to  institute  Inno- 

17 


258  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

cent  IV's  Genoese  nominee  to  an  English  benefice ;  some- 
times by  the  King  or  his  Courts  of  Law,  as  when  the  King's 
Bench  outlawed  the  members  of  the  assembly  of  clergy, 
■who  had  come  together  without  the  King's  writ,  and,  in 
deference  to  a  Papal  Bull  produced  by  Archbishop  Winchel- 
sea,  refused  to  grant  a  subsidy  to  Edward  I.  for  his  Scotch 
campaign.  The  statutes  of  mortmain,  of  provisors,  of  pro- 
hibition, of  praemunire,  all  aimed  at  some  encroachment  of 
Rome  on  the  national  character  of  the  English  Church, 
were  all  passed  with  the  assent  and*  by  the  help  of  that 
Church,  which,  by  its  very  divisions  in  such  crises,  proved 
its  national  character.  It  is  not  necessary  to  follow  the 
history  since  the  Reformation,  for  it  is  part  of  the  case  of 
those  of  the  clergy  who  seek  to  sever  the  connection  that 
has  existed  in  full  force  from  that  time.  Even  when  Episco- 
pacy was  abolished  during  the  Commonwealth  and  Protecto- 
rate, the  national  principle  was  upheld,  and  the  established 
Presbyterian  Church  was  even  more  intimately  allied  with  the 
State  than  its  predecessor  had  been.  Cromwell  had  no  more 
thought  of  severing  the  connection  than  Edward  or  Henry, 
but  desired  to  make  the  Church  as  broad  and  tolerant  as 
possible. 

And  so  the  Church  has  continued  to  our  own  day  in  the- 
ory, and  still  istoavery  great  extent  in  fact,  the  nation  organ- 
ized for  spiritual  purposes,  and  in  striking  sympathy  with  and 
faithfully  mirroring  the  nation  in  all  its  varying  moods — at 
times  no  doubt  persecuting,  apathetic,  unfaithful — but  on  the 
whole  faithful  to  her  great  mission,  and  exercising  a  noble 
and  purifying  influence  on  the  national  conscience  and  the 
national  life. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  259 

If  this  is  at  all  a  true  view  of  the  history  of  the  Church 
of  England,  the  fallacy  of  the  main  argument  of  the  English 
Church  Union  at  recent  meetings  becomes  clear.  Appeal  is 
made  to  some  supposed  compact  between  the  State  and  the 
Church,  and  it  is  contended  that  the  Church  never  conceded 
to  the  State  the  right  of  control  in  spiritual  matters  when  that 
compact  was  made.  This  assumes  that  the  State  and  the 
Church  of  England  were  at  some  time  two  distinct  corporate 
bodies,  in  part  at  least  composed  of  different  persons,  and 
capable  of  contracting  with  one  another.  But  there  never 
was  such  a  time  in  England ;  State  and  Church  never  stood 
in  such  relations  to  each  other ;  there  never  was  any  such  for- 
mal contract  between  them  as  the  Church  Union  argument 
starts  from.  Between  the  officers  of  the  Church  for  the  time 
being  and  the  State,  there  can  of  course  be,  and  always  has 
been,  a  contract  of  service,  as  there  is  between  the  officers  of 
the  army  and  the  State.  But  it  is  placing  matters  on  a  false 
issue  to  represent  the  Church  of  England  as  a  power  bound 
by  treaty  or  compact  with  the  State  of  England  for  certain 
definite  purposes,  and  competent  to  annul  that  treaty  when 
she  pleases.  A  Church  with  the  pretensions  of  Rome,  or  a 
voluntary  Church,  such  as  the  Methodists,  if  the  nation  were 
to  come  to  them  now  to  make  terms,  might  assume  such  an 
attitude  and  make  such  claims,  but  they  contradict  the  very 
idea  of  our  national  Church,  as  those  words  have  always 
been  understood  in  England. 

Before  quitting  the  historical  ground  I  would  just  remind 
you  that  this  modern  cry  for  disestablishment,  or  the  absolute 
severance  of  the  State  from  religion,  has   really  no  English 


26o  THE  COXDITIOiY  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

tradition  at  all  behind  it,  at  any  rate  since  the  Long  Parliament. 
In  that  celebrated  assembly  it  was  indeed  mooted,  but  with  no 
success.  Dr.  Owen,  the  brother-in-law  of  Cromwell,  and  a 
famous  Nonconformist  minister,  was  its  most  vigorous  oppo- 
nent, and  evidently  expressed  the  sense  of  the  House  and  the 
country  when  he  protested  in  the  most  solemn  and  earnest 
words  against  the  notion  that  they,  as  rulers  of  the  nation, 
had  nothing  to  do  with  religion.  From  that  time  to  our  own 
the  effort  has  never  been  repeated,  while  the  greatest  names 
amongst  the  Nonconformists  may  be  cited  as  supporters  of 
the  direct  and  avowed  connection  of  the  State  with  religion. 
Thus  Matthew  Henry  thanks  God  "  for  the  national  estab- 
lishment of  our  religion  with  that  of  our  peace  and  civil  liberty  ;" 
and  Bunyan,  Wesley,  Baxter,  may  all  be  quoted  on  the  same 
side  ;  even  the  leading  Nonconformists  and  the  reformers  of 
the  very  last  generation  had  no  such  policy.  Mr.  Grote,  who 
may  be  taken  as  their  representative  man  on  this  question  in 
the  first  Reformed  Parliament,  advocated  ind^d  sweeping 
and  stringent  reforms  within  the  Church,  but,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  never  hinted  at  severing  the  connection  between  the 
Church  and  the  civil  Government.  I  need  not  say  that  the 
cry  from  within  the  Church  herself  for  this  divorce  is  of  even 
more  recent  origin. 

It  may  of  course  be  replied  to  all  this,  that  however  strong 
the  historical  argument  may  be,  it  is  after  all  mainly  a  senti- 
mental one  which  can  be  allowed  little  weight  in  the  changed 
and  changing  conditions  and  aims  of  our  time.  And  I  would 
not  press  it  beyond  this,  that  if  thirty  generations  of  English- 
men, who  have  given  us  our  country  as  we  enjoy  it,  have  in- 


i 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  261 

sisted  on  a  national  profession  of  Christianity  by  the  State, 
those  who  now  oppose  it  shall  at  least  give  us  some  grounds 
for  believing  that  the  nation  will  become  nobler  and  better 
for  renouncing  that  profession. 

The  second  reason  for  which  such  men  as  I  am  speaking 
of  value  the  connection^  may  also  possibly  be  called  a  sen- 
timental one,  but,  has  I  believe,  a  very  important  practical  side 
to  it.  It  is  that  that  connection  is  a  constant  and  power- 
ful protest  against  the  desire  and  effort  to  divide  human  life 
sharply  into  two  parts,  one  of  which  is  concerned  with  the 
visible  and  the  other  with  the  invisible,  or  as  the  commoner 
phrase  goes,  one  with  secular  the  other  with  religious  affairs. 
Notwithstanding  the  experience  of  many  failures,  that  desire 
and  effort  were  never  more  active  than  in  our  time.  And. 
however  firmly  convinced  we  may  be  from  the  experience  of 
our  own  lives,  and  from  our  observation  of  all  that  is  going 
on  around  us,  that  no  such  severance  is  possible, — that  the 
two  realms  will  assert  their  independence  sooner  or  later, 
whatever  rules  we  may  lay  down  for  keeping  them  apart, — 
still  the  mere  attempt  to  sever  them  will  always  work  mischief  ; 
and  we  cannot  afford  to  part,  or  to  tamper  with,  any  witness 
that  they  have  been  joined  together  from  the  beginning  of 
time,  and  will  remain  so  joined  to  the  end,  by  a  law  which 
man  cannot  set  aside.  And  the  connection  of  Church  and 
State  is  a  standing  witness  to  this  law  in  the  highest  places,  a 
protest  against  the  notion  that  the  nation  can  repudiate  its 
highest  functions  and  duties,  any  more  than  one  of  its  own 
citizens  can  do  so.  Were  the  present  connection  severed,  the 
only  result  would  be,  that,  sooner  or  later,  probably  after  much 


262  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

national  deterioration  and  humiliation,  the  law  would  have  \o 
be  reasserted,  and  the  duty  accepted  again  by  the  nation  under 
new  conditions.  Therefore,  those  in  whom  the  love  of  their 
country  is  deepest  and  strongest,  should  be  foremost  in  insist- 
ing that  we  shall  not  give  up  the  highest  national  ideal  be- 
cause we  find  it  hard  to  realize. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  contend  that  the  ideal  is  not 
lowered  by  severance  of  the  connection.  An  abandonment 
of  important  functions  may  be  expedient,  or  convenient,  or 
even  necessary,  but  it  must  remain  a  proof  of  a  more  stunted 
and  narrower  life.  And  without  dwelling  on  the  many  ways 
in  which  such  an  abandonment  might  probably  act  in  England, 
I  think  no  one  will  deny  that,  in  any  case,  it  is  certain  to 
lessen  the  interest  which  religious  men  take  in  politics  and 
public  life.  There  is,  I  know,  a  school  of  politicians,  not 
wanting  influential  representatives  in  the  press,  who  will  ex- 
claim at  once,  "  What  a  blessing !  How  smoothly  public  busi- 
ness would  run  on  in  future  if  we  could  only  get  rid  of  them 
altogether !  They  are  the  bane  of  jDublic  life,  at  least  just  so 
far  as  they  will  insist  on  bringing  religious  considerations  to 
bear  on  it,  A  nation  to  be  great  and  prosperous  can't  afford 
to  keep  a  religious  conscience."  But  I  venture  to  think,  not- 
withstanding, from  all  \  have  seen  of  public  life  in  England, 
that  precisely  the  contrary  is  true,  that  men  who  are  avowedly 
leligious  are  the  best  politicians,  and  that  it  is  of  the  highest 
moment  for  the  national  character,  and  therefore  in  the  end 
for  national  prosperity,  that  they  should  be  kept  interested  in 
politics.  It  is  not  easy  to  do  this  now,  and  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
see  how  it  will  become  easier  when  we  declare  that  henceforth 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  263 

the  nation  will  take  no  cognizance  of,  and  will  cease  in  its 
corporate  capacity  to  have  anything  to  do  with,  religion.  If 
it  is  replied  by  some  sections  of  Liberationists  (as  I  presume 
some  at  least  of  the  nonconforming  bodies  would  reply)  that 
this  is  not  their  meaning — that  they  never  intended  to  bring 
about  such  a  result,  and  they  do  not  believe  that  disestablish- 
ment will  effect  it  —  I  can  only  ask,  how  they  propose  to 
avert  it  ?  By  what  machinery  can  the  national  supervision 
and  control  of  religion  be  made  less  irksome  to  them  than  the 
present  arrangement? 

Again,  such  a  man  finds  himself  born  to  a  certain  religious 
inheritance  as  an  Englishman.  He  can  go  and  settle  in  any 
remotest  hamlet  of  this  island  of  ours,  and  there  he  shall  find 
provided  for  him  and  his  family  a  public  place  of  worship, 
an  officer  of  the  State,  and  all  the  machinery  necessary  for 
enabling  him  to  enjoy  every  office  and  ministration  of  religion, 
if,  and  so  far  only  as,  he  desires  them.  This,  I  say,  is  part  of 
his  and  of  my  birthright,  and  of  every  man's  birthright  as  an 
Englishman,  in  this  year  1877.  ^  have  the  right  to  all  these 
things,  not  because  I  hold  any  particular  religious  opinions, 
but  simply  because  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  claim  them.  If  I 
am  too  poor  or  too  miserly  to  pay  for  them,  I  can  claim  them 
without  payment. 

Now,  to  put  it  no  higher,  this  particular  portion  of  our 
birthright  can  do  us  no  harm,  for  this  if  for  no  other  reason, 
that  we  need  not  use  it  unless  we  please.  If  we  do  not  want 
to  worship  God  ourselves,  or  to  be  baptized,  married,  buried, 
consoled,  aided,  instructed — if  we  want  none  of  these  things 
for  our  wives  and  children — there  is  no  compulsion  whatever 


264  "^^^E  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

upon  us  in  the  matter.  It  is  not  easy,  therefore,  to  see  how 
we  or  our  families  can  be  injured  by  this  option,  and  by  no 
means  clear  how  any  one  else  can  be.  Again,  another  reason 
why  such  men  as  I  am  trying  to  describe  are  attached  to  and 
desire  to  maintain  the  connection  between  Church  and  State, 
as  the  religious  condition  of  things  most  favourable  to  national 
life,  is  that  they  see  that  the  principle  which  underlies  the 
National  Church  is  inclusiveness.  Every  Englishman  born 
is  assumed  to  be  a  member,  and  continues  to  be  so  without 
question,  until  he  leaves  it  by  his  own  act,  by  his  own  free 
will ;  whereas  the  principle  which  underlies  all  voluntary 
Churches  is  exclusiveness — they  are  essentially  a  section 
gleaned  out  of  the  nation,  and  whereas  an  Englishman  cajinot 
get  out  of  the  National,  he  cannot  get  into  any  voluntary 
Church  without  an  effort  of  will.  It  follows,  or  at  any  rate  is 
the  fact,  that  the  National  Church  is  the  most  liberal  in  spirit ; 
for  by  its  very  nature  and  constitution  it  is  bound  to  protest 
against  the  sectarian  spirit,  the  spirit  of  division.  Whenever 
the  National  Church  is  not  bearing  this  protest  faithfully,  it 
is  untrue  to  itself.  The  wide  divergences  of  opinion  allowed 
within  its  ranks,  so  triumphantly  cited  in  some  quarters  as 
signs  of  weakness,  seem  to  such  men  proofs  of  strength. 

They  see  also  that  the  National  is  the  only  organization 
by  which  the  gospel  can  be  carried  to  the  very  poor  and  the 
outcasts — to  those,  in  short,  who  need  it  most,  but  who  do 
not  value  it,  and  cannot  or  will  not  pay  for  it.  For  voluntary 
Churches  cannot  live  in  the  poorest  districts,  but  must  follow 
those  who  can  maintain  them,  and  are  only  bound  to  minister 
to  these. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  265 

They  see,  lastly,  that  the  National  Church  is  best  adapted 
to  the  tone  and  circumstances  of  the  people  of  England,  as  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  the  voluntary  Churches  are  all  imita- 
ting her  in  so  many  ways,  by  using  more  and  more  of  her 
Liturgy,  by  copying  her  architecture  and  niusic,  till  it  is  often 
difficult  to  tell  as  you  pass  a  place  of  worship  whether  it  is 
National  or  Nonconformist — by  even  adopting  for  their  minis- 
ters the  titles  by  which  the  National  clergy  have  always  been 
distinguished. 

I  have  had  to  dwell  at  some  length,  though  I  trust  so  as 
not  to  weary  you,  on  the  sort  of  views  which  are  held  by  a  large 
number  of  quiet  lay  Churchmen  who  think  about  such  sub- 
jects at  all.  And  now,  if  there  be  the  least  ground  of  truth 
in  my  picture,  if  I  am  not  dreaming  when  I  say  that  such  men 
are  numerous  in  England,  I  would  ask  any  clergyman  here  to 
try  to  put  himself  in  the  place  of  such  a  layman,  and  consider 
how  he  would  regard  the  doings  of  the  last  few  months  within 
the  Church,  and  the  position  which  a  section  of  the  clergy 
are  taking  up  and  the  language  they  are  using — I  say  a  sec- 
tion of  the  clergy,  not  meaning  for  a  moment  to  deny  that  they 
have  a  following  of  laymen  (not  really  so  numerous  as  they 
suppose,  but  genuine  as  far  as  it  goes)  with  them,  but  only  to 
place  the  burthen  on  the  right  back.  No  laity  would  be  there 
but  for  them  ;  it  is  idle  to  talk  of  offences  coming  mainly  from 
the  newly-aroused  zeal  of  boys  and  girls.  It  is  a  portion  of 
the  National  clergj'  who  are  responsible,  and  must  answer 
for  the  present  state  of  things,  be  it  for  good  or  for  evil. 

Now  this  extreme  section  are  deliberately  breaking  the 
law,  and,  to  our  astonishment,  are  applauded  and  upheld  in 


266  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

doing  so,  not  only  by  newspapers  and  unions  from  which  noth- 
ing better  could  be  expected,  but  by  considerable  numbers  of 
their  brethren  upon  whom  we  had  been  accustomed  to  look 
with  respect  as  honest  and  faithful  ministers,  however  much 
we  might  differ  from  them.  They  do  not  indeed  pretend  to 
agree  with  the  extreme  Ritualists,  but  they  support  them 
openly  and  warmly,  on  the  plea  that  they  are  suffering  for 
conscience  sake.  Well,  let  the  plea  pass — admit  that  they  are 
making  these  things  matters  of  conscience — ^but  we  must  be 
allowed  to  ask,  as  Englishmen,  whether  this  is  the  kind  of 
conscience  which  we  desire  to  cultivate  in  ourselves,  or  to  see 
cultivated  in  this  nation.  Poor  conscience  !  to  what  pitiful 
uses  is  that  sacred  name  turned  1  The  stolid  Essex  peasant, 
one  of  the  Peculiar  people,  lets  his  child  die  because  he  will 
not  allow  it  to  take  medicine,  and  believes  himself  to  be  suf- 
fering for  conscience  sake  because  he  is  summoned  before  a 
magistrate  to  answer  for  its  life.  And  he  has  far  more  reason 
on  his  side  than  these  Ritualist  martyrs — I  desire  neither  to 
speak  nor  think  scornfully  or  bitterly  of  them,  but  this  at 
least  I  must  say,  that  men  who  can  make  matters  of  conscience 
of  such  trivialities  as  the  shape  and  color  of  vestments,  the 
burning  of  candles  and  incense,  the  position  of  tables,  and 
the  like,  and  in  defence  of  these  things  are  prepared  to  defy 
authority,  and  break  what  they  know  to  be  the  law  of  their 
country,  are  not  fit  to  be  trusted  with  the  spiritual  guidance 
of  any  portion  of  our  people.  This  nation  has  a  great  work 
still  to  do  in  the  world,  for  which  she  needs  children  with 
quite  other  kind  of  consciences  than  these — consciences  which 
shall  be  simple,  manly,  obedient,  qualities  which  must  disap- 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  267 

pear  under  such  examples  and  teachings  as  these  men  are 
giving.  It  is  with  reluctance  that  one  has  to  come  to  such  a 
conclusion,  but  there  is  no  use  in  blinding  ourselves  any  longer 
as  to  their  meaning.  They  have  resolved  to  try  their  strength 
with  the  nation ;  to  throw  off  all  civil  control  as  well  as  to 
disobey  and  defy  their  spiritual  superiors,  and  they  will  have 
to  abide  the  consequences,  which  will  assuredly  be  that  they 
will  not  be  allowed  to  minister  any  longer  in  the  National 
Church  which  they  are  doing  all  they  can  to  destroy. 

Were  it  only  a  question  of  these  extreme  men,  there  would 
be  small  cause  for  anxiety  ;  but,  as  already  stated,  they  have 
been  backed — at  any  rate,  ever  since  the  judgment  in  the 
Hatcham  case — by  a  large  number  of  High  Church  clergy, 
from  whom  we  had  a  right  to  look  for  very  different  things. 
I  have  heard  friends  of  my  own  speaking  of  these  men  as 
martyrs,  and  echoing  the  claptrap  cries  of  the  (so-called)  re- 
ligious press,  such  as  that  of  "  The  interference  of  the  State 
with  the  Church  has  increased,  is  increasing,  and  ought  to  be 
diminished."  A  martyr  I  have  always  understood  to  be  one 
who  suffers  willingly  for  his  faith ;  it  is  abusing  an  almost 
sacred  word  to  apply  it  to  such  suffering  as  is  possible  here 
in  England  nowadays,  for  any  opinion  (I  will  not  speak  of 
faith)  about  what  postures  of  the  body,  or  shape  or  color  of 
garments,  have  been  in  use  in  churches  since  Edward  the 
Sixth's  time.  And  as  to  the  interference  of  the  State  having 
increased,  it  is  notoriously  untrue  in  any  sense  except  that 
offences  against  the  law  have  increased,  and  so  that  law  has 
had  to  be  (with  extreme  reluctance)  enforced  by  the-  heads  of 
the  Church  against  the  offenders. 


268  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

I  willingly  admit,  however,  that  they  have  more  reasonable 
arguments  than  these.  They  urge,  for  instance,  that  (apart 
from  the  extreme  Ritualists,  whose  proceedings  they  do  not 
approve,)  they  have  been  the  moving  power  of  the  great 
Church  revival  of  our  time,  the  evidences  of  which  lie  broad- 
cast over  the  whole  country,  in  restored  cathedrals  and 
churches,  frequent  and  reverent  services,  and  the  widespread 
zeal  for  all  social  reform  and  philanthropic  effort,  which  has 
become  the  honorable  and  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
the  nation  in  our  day.  In  return  for  these  services  they  have 
met  with  abuse,  distrust,  misrepresentation,  and  now  at  last 
are  the  subjects  of  direct  attack  on  the  part  of  the  nation, 
both  in  the  Law  Courts  and  in  Parliament,  the  crowning  act 
of  aggression  being  the  Public  Worship  Regulation  Act,  which 
has  been  aimed  at  them,  and  at  them  only. 

Now  even  those  who  distrust  the  High  Church  party  most, 
must  admit  their  plea  as  to  the  zealous,  and  in  many  respects 
admirable,  work  which  they  have  done  since  the  revival  be- 
gun by  the  "  Tracts  for  the  Times  "  forty  years  ago.  They 
have  deserved  well  of  the  nation  in  many  ways,  and  have 
possibly  some  grounds  for  their  complaints  as  to  the  suspicion 
with  which  they  have  no  doubt  been  always  regarded,  though 
they  have  certainly  taken  no  pains  to  avoid  it.  But  it  is  im- 
possible to  admit  that  they  have  any  reason  to  complain  of 
harsh  or  unjust  treatment,  either  from  the  national  Executive 
or  from  the  Legislature.  The  judgment  in  Mr.  Bennet's  case 
,  shows  how  far  the  Law  Courts  have  been  disposed  to  go  in 
construing  their  obligations  in  the  largest  and  widest  sense. 
It  is  only  when  there  has  been  an  obvious  and  scandalous 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  269 

disregard  and  defiance  of  the  law  (as  in  the  case  of  Mr,  Pur- 
chas  and  Mr.  Tooth)  that  it  has  been  enforced  against  any 
of  their  number.  Indeed,  another  proof  of  the  advantage  of 
the  national  principle  maybe  found  in  the  reluctance  with 
which  the  Courts  have  intervened ;  and  the  steadiness  with 
which  they  have  upheld  the  principle  of  a  large  toleration 
and  inclusiveness  in  the  face  of  strong  popular  excitement. 

Again,  as  respects  the  Legislature,  so  far  from  showing  any 
readiness  or  eagerness  to  follow  the  popular  cry,  it  has  been 
only  when  the  open  defiance  of  the  law  had  become  a  public 
scandal  that  Parliament  could  be  induced  to  interfere  at  all, 
and  then  by  an  Act  which  I  venture  to  think  has  been  greatly 
misunderstood  and  misrepresented. 

Let  me  just  remind  you  of  a  fact  or  two  with  respect  to 
this  Act.  In  the  first  place,  remember  it  was  a  church  meas- 
ure. Whereas  the  custom  had  prevailed  for  years,  until  it 
had  almost  become  a  rule,  that  such  Bills  should  be  introduced 
by  the  Government  of  the  day  in  consultation  with  the  Bish- 
ops, this  Bill  was  not  a  Government  measure.  I  have  never 
hea'd  why  it  was  that  the  rule  was  broken,  but  broken  it  was, 
and  it  was  not  until  after  the  Bill  had  passed  the  Lords,  and 
been  debated  for  three  long  nights  in  the  Commons,  that  it 
was  at  length  adopted  by  the  Government. 

It  was  introduced  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
received  the  general  support  of  the  whole  Bench,  though  the 
Bishops  of  Lincoln  and  Oxford  took  some  objections  to  small 
matters  of  detail. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  and  able  debate  in  the  Commons, 
the  feeling  of  the   House,  and  of  the  nation,  had  been  so 


270  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

clearly  expressed  that  the  second  reading  was  carried  without 
a  division. 

I  scarcely  remember  a  question  which  has  stirred  the 
House  or  the  country  more  deeply  in  the  last  twenty  years. 
It  was  discussed  all  over  the  country,  in  meetings  held  chiefly, 
I  believe,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Church  Association  and 
the  Church  Union  (as  to  which  bodies  the  Bishop  of  Lichfield 
has  well  said  that  there  will  be  no  peace  in  the  Church  till 
they  cease  to  exist).  I  would  only  ask  any  fair  man  who  is 
inclined  to  join  in  the  attempt  to  take  the  Church  from  under 
State  control,  to  compare  the  speeches  in  Parliament  and 
those  of  the  members  of  these  ecclesiastical  organizations, 
during  the  spring  and  summer  of  1874,  and  then  say  which 
yoke  (as  the  phrase  goes)  he  would  honestly  desire  to  be 
under. 

As  for  the  Act  itself,  it  was  well  said  by  Mr.  Goschen — 
himself  I  believe  a  High  Churchman — that  it  would  prove 
either  a  small  or  a  large  measure,  a  small  one  if  the  clergy 
meant  to  obey  it,  otherwise  most  likely  a  large  and  searching 
one. 

By  its  provisions  the  clergy  of  every  school  are  protected 
against  any  malicious  or  arbitrary  use  of  the  Act,  by  the  in- 
terposition of  the  chief  of  their  own  body  in  the  diocese  in 
which  it  is  sought  to  put  it  in  motion,  whose  leave  must  be 
obtained  before  the  institution  of  proceedings.  The  bishop 
practically  becomes  an  arbiter  in  the  case  if  both  parties  are 
willing  to  accept  him  ;  if  not,  an  impartial  tribunal  is  provided 
for  the  decision  of  the  questions  at  issue. 

I  trust  there  are  even  yet  hopes  that  it  may  prove  a  small 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  27 1 

Act ;  for  I  cannot  believe  that,  in  spite  of  all  the  goading  of 
the  religious  press,  and  of  the  semi-ecclesiastical  societies,  a 
body  of  high-principled  English  gentlemen  will  continue  to 
maintain  the  attitude  of  defiance  to  the  law,  and  to  the  clearly 
expressed  will  of  the  nation. 

The  often  repeated  cry  that  the  Act  is  one-sided,  and 
aimed  against  one  party  only  in  the  Church,  may  serve  the 
purpose  of  excited  speakers,  but  will  not  bear  examination. 
For  it  makes  no  alteration  in  the  law,  but  only  simplifies  and 
cheapens  the  processes  by  which  the  law  is  administered. 
Whatever  was  lawful  in  the  fabric  or  arrangement  of  conse- 
crated buildings,  or  in  vestments,  postures,  or  decorations, 
remains  still  lawful — whatever  was  required  before  the  pass- 
ing of  the  Act  is  still  required,  the  neglect  to  use  that  which 
is  prescribed  standing  in  precisely  the  same  category  as  the 
use  of  that  which  is  forbidden. 

If  it  be  one-sided,  every  efficient  law  in  the  Statute  Book 
is  one-sided  ;  for  every  such  law  inflicts  penalties,  not  on  those 
who  keep  within,  but  on  those  who  break  it. 

The  objection  to  the  constitution  of  the  Court  which  takes 
cognizance  of  these  offences,  when  the  parties  will  not  submit  to 
the  bishop,  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  serious.  It  is  said  that 
the  authority  of  this  Court  "  is  not  derived  from  the  rightful 
royal  supremacy  exercised  *  under  God,'  but  of  the  Sovereign 
in  council  by  authority  of  Parliament."  ,  But  surely  those  who 
make  this  protest  are  aware  that  the  Queen  has  no  authority 
by  virtue  of  her  mere  supremacy  to  constitute  any  court  apart 
from  Parliament. 

On  the  whole,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how,  if  order  is  to  be 


272  ^  THE  COKDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OP 

preserved,  and  the  law  enforced  at  all  in  the  National  Church, 
any  more  moderate  or  fair  method  could  have  been  found  than 
that  adopted  by  the  Act  in  question. 

But  let  us  pass  from  the  late  Act  to  the  remedies  for  the 
present  state  of  things,  which  have  been  suggested  by  those 
who  are  taking  part  in  this  agitation.  These  are  not  at  pres- 
ent very  definite.  They  are  indeed  vaguely  pledging  them- 
selves to  "  work  night  and  day  to  set  the  Church  of  England 
free  from  a  persecuting  State  ; "  but  we  are  not  told,  with  any 
distinctness,  what  they  desire  to  substitute  for  the  yoke  of  the 
nation.  If  the  words  of  some  of  their  number  are  to  be  taken 
literally,  it  would  seem  as  though  our  history  of  seven  hun- 
dred years  ago  had  been  rolled  back,  and  that  England  is  again 
face  to  face  with  the  monks  who  followed  ^  Becket  in  his  at- 
tempt to  sever  the  clergy  from  the  nation,  and  set  them  as  a 
caste  outside  and  above  the  law  of  the  land.  I  do  not  of 
course  mean  that  the  present  contention  is  that  the  clergy 
shall  not  be  amenable  to  the  law  for  civil  offences,  like  all 
other  citizens  ;  but  apparently  there  is  a  section  of  them  who 
do  claim,  that  as  regards  all  matters  connected  with  their 
position  and  functions  as  clergy,  they  shall  be  subject  to 
Church  Courts  only.  And  by  Church  Courts  they  cannot 
mean  any  courts  constituted  in  our  national  manner,  and  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  Parliament ;  for  then  their  grievance  comes 
to  nothing.  It  is  reduced  to  a  mere  question  of  names,  and 
it  does  not  matter  a  straw  by  what  name  the  Courts  which  try 
ecclesiastical  causes  are  known,  if  they  are  constituted,  and 
their  judges  appointed,  by  the  head  of  the  State  on  the  advice 
of  responsible  Ministers,  and  under  the  control  of  Parliament. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  273 

One  is  driven,  therefore,  to  the  conclusion  that  they  mean  a 
tribunal  independent  of  State  control,  the  judges  of  which  are 
elected  by,  and  responsible  to,  the  clergy,  or  some  purely 
ecclesiastical  organization.  There  was  some  strength  and 
meaning  in  \  Becket's  proposal,  because  he  had  the  Pope  to 
put  in  the  place  of  King  and  King's  Council,  as  the  head  and 
fountain  of  authority  for  the  Courts  which  he  proposed  to  sub- 
stitute for  the  national  Courts.  But  as  the  Ritualists  have  not 
that  resource,  they  should  either  cease  beating  about  the  bush 
and  make  their  demands  clear  and  precise,  telling  us  who  is 
to  be  the  fountain  on  earth  of  ecclesiastical  authority,  or  leave 
the  National  Church,  and  set  up  a  sect  of  their  own,  in  which 
they  may  place  themselves  as  priests  in  whatever  position  they 
please,  as  they  find  themselves  unable  to  accept  the  grandest 
of  all  positions,  that  of  simple  citizens,  called  and  appointed 
to  minister  to  the  nation,  whose  sons  they  are,  in  spiritual 
things. 

There  is  another  course  advocated  by  many  High  Church- 
men as  an  escape  from  our  present  difficulties,  which  is  ad- 
vanced temperately  and  reasonably,  and  has  the  public  sanc- 
tion of  at  least  one  bishop.  I  think  I  shall  state  it  most  fairly 
perhaps  in  his  own  words  : — "  I  am  of  opinion,"  the  Bishop  of 
Lincoln  writes,  "  that  for  the  sake  of  the  State  as  well  as  for 
that  of  the  Church  much  more  liberty  ought  to  be  given,  and 
much  more  weight  attached,  to  the  judgment  of  the  spiritual- 
ity in  ecclesiastical  causes,  and  to  the  action  of  the  Church  of 
England  in  her  synods,  diocesan  and  provincial."  I  am  glad 
to  be  able  to  quote  his  further  words  of  warning : — "  But  we 
shall  never  obtain  these  benefits  by  violent  resistance  to  con- 

18 


274  ^^^^  COXDITION  AXD  PROSPECTS  OF 

stitutional  authority ;  on  the  contrary,  we  shall  provoke  violent 
reprisals,  and  shall  greatly  injure  the  cause  we  desire  to  man- 
tain." 

I  presume  that  these  words  point  to  investing  Convoca- 
tion with  some  legislative  powers  in  ecclesiastical  affairs ; 
and  with  every  desire  to  concede  whatever  can  be  conceded 
for  the  sake  of  peace,  I  am  bound  to  say  plainly  that  I  do  not 
think  it  can  be  found  in  this  direction.  Convocation  has  now 
for  some  years  been  sitting  and  discussing  all  questions  upon 
which  legislation  is  needed,  or  which  seriously  affect  the  relig- 
ious condition  of  the  nation.  But  I  fear  that  the  reports  of 
the  debates  in  both  Houses  have  not  had  a  reassuring  effect 
on  the  country  ;  indeed,  they  have  been  characterized  by  tim- 
idity and  narrowness,  and  an  apparent  want  of  appreciation  of 
the  forces  which  are  working  in  the  outside  world,  which  has 
disappointed  those  who  looked  most  hopefully  towards  this 
experiment.  I  am  not  aware  of  any  recommendation  of  prac- 
tical value  which  has  as  yet  come  from  that  body.  Indeed,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  main  result  of  the  recent  revival  of  Con- 
vocation has  been  to  strengthen  the  convictions  of  all  those 
who  value  the  national  character  of  the  Church,  that  that 
character  cannot  be  maintained  if  its  direction  and  govern- 
ment is  to  be  entrusted  to  any  ecclesiastical  body.  It  may 
be  said  that  the  proposal  is  to  reform  Convocation  by  the  ad- 
mission of  the  laity.  But  this  would  not  remove  the  objec- 
tion. Such  laymen  as  would  have  a  chance  of  election  would 
not  represent  the  nation,  besides  which  they  would  be  power- 
less in  such  a  body.  When  professionals  and  amateurs  meet, 
we  know  which  side  is  likely  to  go  to  the  wall. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  275 

Convocation  was  no  doubt  two  hundred  years  ago  a  sort 
of  fourth  estate  of  the  reahn,  representing  not  the  National 
Church  but  the  clergy,  even  for  purposes  of  taxation.  It  was 
at  their  own  request  that  for  those  purposes  they  were 
merged  in  the  nation,  and  taxed  by  the  same  machinery  as  the 
laity.  From  that  time  Convocation  was  practically  without 
functions,  and  when  summoned,  as  in  1698,  the  disputes  be- 
tween the  Low  Church  bishops  appointed  by  the  Crown  and 
the  Jacobite  clergy  ran  so  high  as  to  create  scandal  and  ren- 
der their  debates  fruitless  ;  and  from  17 17  till  our  own  day, 
though  formally  summoned,  they  were  always  at  once  pro- 
rogued. 

But  even  if  the  traditions  of  Convocation  were  far  more 
satisfactory,  the  chief  objection  remains  that  to  hand  over  the 
control  of  the  Church  to  that  body  would  be  an  infringement 
of  the  national  principle,  and  an  imitation  of  the  practice  of 
the  sects,  without  any  compensating  advantage.  For  what 
ground  from  recent  experience  have  we  for  believing  that  the 
various  parties  in  the  Church  would  agree  better  in  Convoca- 
tion than  they  did  in  1698? 

To  give  the  powers  that  are  claimed  to  Convocation 
would  be  a  certain  step  towards  a  severance  of  all  connection 
with  the  State,  and  consequently  (in  words  probably  familiar 
to  many  here)  would  inevitably  lead  to  that  "  degradation 
which  by  an  almost  universal  law  overtakes  religion  when, 
even  while  attaining  a  purer  form,  it  loses  the  vivifying  and 
elevating  spirit  breathed  into  it  by  close  contact  with  the 
great  historic  and  secular  influences,  which  act  like  fresh  air 
on  a  contracted  atmosphere,  and  are  thus  the  divine  antisep- 


276  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

tics  against  the  spiritual  corruption  of  merely  ecclesiastical 
communities"  (Dean  Stanley). 

I  am  not  aware  of  any  other  proposal  to  which  the  same 
objection  does  not  attach.  They  are  one  and  all  aimed  at  a 
further  severance  of  the  clergy  from  the  Church  and  from  the 
nation,  whereas  what  we  need  is  precisely  the  reverse  of  this 
— that  the  clergy  should  be  brought  into  closer  contact  with 
the  nation,  and  should  learn  to  feel  more  and  more  the  worth 
and  nobleness  of  their  common  citizenship. 

That  they  have  a  higher  citizenship  is  of  course  true,  but 
only  in  the  same  sense  in  which  it  is  true  of  every  one  of 
their  lay  brethren.  That  Christ  is  the  only  head  of  the  Church 
is  also  true,  but  is  He  not  also  the  only  head  of  the  nation  ? 
He  is  no  more  visible  to  the  Church  than  to  the  nation,  to 
the  priest  than  to  the  crossing-sweeper.  They  hold  their  com- 
mission from  Him  no  doubt,  but  they  must  receive  it,  with 
some  visible  seal,  from  some  human  hands ;  and  what  seal 
can  be  so  worthy,  so  noble,  as  that  of  the  nation  whose  chil- 
dren they  are  ? 

But  if  none  of  the  suggestions  yet  made  seem  to  offer  re- 
lief, what  is  the  outlook  ?  Dark  enough,  I  admit,  but  still  by 
no  means  so  dark  as  it  has  often  been  before,  for  all  these 
struggles  and  controversies  are,  after  all,  but  the  signs  of  a 
vigorous  life.  All  that  is  needed — and  surely  England  will 
not  now  for  the  first  time  need  it  in  vain — is  some  small  share 
of  the  self-restraint,  the  patience,  and  the  courage  which  have 
never  yet  failed  her  under  God's  blessing.  That  there  must 
be  a  great  reform  in  our  National  Church  is  clear,  but  she  is 
strong  enough  to  bear  it.    What  has  been  done  in  our  day 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  277 

in  this  direction  should  be  encouraging  instead  of  depressing 
to  any  one  who  will  look  at  it  steadily  and  fairly ;  but  it  is 
only  a  fraction  of  what  is  needed. 

The  readjustment  of  Church  property,  the  establishment 
of  the  Ecclesiastical  Commission,  the  abolition  of  tests,  the 
relaxation  of  subscription,  the  reorganization  of  parishes,  the 
appointment  of  bishops  without  seats  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
the  subdivision  of  dioceses,  the  Church  Discipline  Acts,  the 
revision  of  the  Bible,  and,  lastly,  this  Public  Worship  Act,  are 
all  measures  passed  within  my  own  memory.  And  surely 
such  a  list  (and  it  might  be  doubled)  may  well  give  heart  of 
grace  to  the  most  desponding,  for  these  reforms  have  been 
made  in  a  time  peculiarly  unfavourable  to  the  development 
of  the  Church.  The  commercial  spirit,  with  its  utilitarian 
and  materialistic  Gospel,  has  been  in  the  ascendant,  with  the 
result  that  the  friends  of  the  National  Church  have  been 
afraid  of  touching  a  brick  of  the  old  fabric  lest  the  whole 
should  come  about  their  ears,  while  her  enemies  have  looked 
upon  every  effort  for  reform  with  watchful  jealousy,  fearing 
lest  it  should  strengthen  the  old  walls  and  foundations.  No 
one  can  have  been  in  the  House  of  Commons  without  becom- 
ing aware  of  the  strength  of  these  two  antagonist  forces,  both 
however  working  in  the  same  direction,  that  of  making  any 
resolute  action  in  Church  reform  all  but  impossible.  And 
yet  all  these  things  I  have  just  referred  to  have  been  done  in 
such  a  time. 

Why  then  should  we  despair  of  greater  and  better  things, 
when  a  time  has  come  in  which  there  are  unmistakable  signs 
that,  whatever  the  controlling  spirit  may  prove  to  be,  it  will 


278  THE  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OF 

not  be  the  utilitarian  or  materialistic  ?  If  the  Church  has 
emerged  from  such  a  time  as  the  one  which  is  expiring,  fuller 
than  ever  of  spiritual  life  and  zeal,  and  without  having  as  yet 
lost  anything  of  her  national  character,  what  fear  is  there 
that  she  will  be  false  to  her  own  and  her  country's  history  in 
the  time  which  is  coming?  It  was  in  a  crisis  in  several  re- 
spects as  serious  as  the  present  that  the  wisest  as  well  as  the 
most  observant  and  best-informed  of  foreign  critics  of  our  na- 
tional habits  and  institutions,  wrote  : — "  To  this  country  be- 
longs the  honour  of  having,  so  far  as  the  State  is  concerned, 
succeeded  in  the  mighty  task  of  reconciling  individual  liberty 
with  allegiance  and  submission  to  the  will  of  the  community, 
whilst  other  nations  are  still  wrestling  with  it ;  and  I  feel 
persuaded  that  the  same  earnest  zeal  and  practical  wisdom 
which  have  made  her  political  constitution  an  object  of 
admiration  to  other  nations  will,  under  God's  blessing,  make 
her  Church  also  a  model  to  the  world  "  (Prince  Albert). 

It  is  in  this  hope  and  with  this  belief  that  I  have  ventured 
to  speak  to  you  this  evening.  I  know  that  I  must  have  said 
things  which  may  have  roused  painful,  and  possibly  indignant 
feelings  in  the  minds  of  persons  for  whom  individually,  and 
for  much  of  whose  work,  I  should  desire  only  to  express  re- 
spect and  gratitude.  If  there  should  be  any  such  here,  I  can 
only  ask  them  to  believe  that  it  is  from  love  to  the  Church, 
of  which  we  are  all  members,  not  less  sincere,  I  trust,  and 
loyal  than  their  own — from  an  estimate  not  lower,  at  any  rate, 
though  in  some  respects  differing  from  theirs,  of  the  mission 
of  that  Church,  and  of  the  work  she  has  been  called  to  do 
for  the  nation  and  for  the  world — that  one  is  constrained  to 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAXn.  279 

be  perfectly  outspoken,  and  not  to  ignore  or  explain  away 
facts,  or  to  call  things  by  any  other  than  their  plainest  names 
at  such  a  time  as  this. 

There  is  no  danger  for  our  Church  that  I  can  see,  except 
from  her  own  children,  indeed  from  her  own  officers.  There 
is  no  deeper  feeling  on  this  subject  of  disestablishment  in  the 
House  of  Commons  than  irritated  jealousy,  having  its  root  in 
social  and  political  soil,  and  its  expression  in  clever  flippancy 
and  bitterness,  and  the  House  in  this  matter  very  fairly  rep- 
resents the  people.  Those  who  express  anything  more  serious 
are,  I  think,  constantly  finding  it  more  and  more  difficult  to 
persuade  themselves  or  any  one  else  that  they  are  working 
for  the  highest  good  of  the  country,  and  with  a  single  view  of 
placing  religion  under  the  absolutely  best  conditions  for  do- 
ing the  nation's  work.  It  is  only  within  her  own  ranks  that 
there  is  zeal  and  fire  enough  to  be  dangerous. 

Before  going  further  on  these  new  and  perilous  ways,  the 
discontented  in  her  own  ranks  should  at  least  count  the  cost 
more  carefully  than  they  seem  yet  to  have  done.  Can  any 
one  of  them  say  deliberately  that  in  his  conscience  he  believes 
the  conditions  and  prospects  of  the  religious  life  of  this  nation 
will  be  improved  by  the  withdrawal  of  religion  altogether 
from  the  cognizance  and  control  of  the  nation  ?  If  he  can 
answer  yes,  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,  and  there  can  be 
neither  peace  nor  even  truce  possible  between  us.  If 
not  there  is  scarcely  any  point,  short  of  the  intrusion  of 
outside  influence  in  the  National  Church,  or  disobedience 
to  the  law,  to  which  we  would  not  go  to  help  them.  We  will 
join   them   in  efforts  to   obtain    thorough    Church   reform, 


28o  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  deeper  and  wider  the  better.  We  have  no  fear  of  touch- 
ing formularies,  or  canons,  or  rubrics,  or  liturgies ;  indeed 
are  anxious  they  should  be  touched,  inasmuch  as  they  are  in 
not  a  few  respects  obsolete  and  unfitted  to  our  time.  When- 
ever the  clergy  are  prepared  for  this  necessary  work,  which 
cannot  be  long  deferred — though  in  the  midst  of  the  present 
agitation  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  or  by  whom  it  can  be  taken 
in  hand — they  will  find  lay  Churchmen  cordial  and  strenuous 
helpers.  All  we  ask  of  them  is,  that  in  one  of  the  great  crises 
of  the  world — the  days  of  the  Lord,  as  they  are  so  well  called 
— they  shall  not  wantonly  destroy  that  example  of  the  condi- 
tions on  which  the  Gospel  and  the  nations  can  live  together, 
which,  with  all  its  faults,  is  the  best  hitherto  seen  in  the 
world,  and  the  only  one  which  gives  us  even  a  distant  hint  of 
how,  in  God's  good  time,  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  may  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  His  Christ. 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVINGS 

By  W.  H.  Mallock. 

I. 

The  apostles  of  modern  progress  claim  many  virtues  for 
the  present,  which  the  unenlightened  observer  may  be  some- 
what slow  to  detect  in  it.  But  it  has  one  distinctive  feature 
at  any  rate,  the  reality  of  which  can  be  denied  by  nobody,  and 
which  has  needed  but  little  heightening  from  the  imagination 
of  the  optimist.  That  feature  is  the  singular  toleration  of  its 
temper  amongst  all  that,  apparently,  can  most  excite  intol- 
erance. Every  belief  that  life  was  once  supposed  to  rest  upon 
we  see  men  calmly  questioning  and  preparing  to  cast  aside, 
and  yet  we  most  of  us  keep  our  tempers  ;  we  are  neither  afraid 
nor  angry.  Doctrines  are  swinging  before  us  in  the  balance 
that  seemed  but  yesterday  to  be  fixed  as  mountains,  not  to  be 
weighed  at  all ;  and  yet  no  Brennus  adds  a  sword  to  make  his 
own  scale  heavier.  There  is,  in  fact,  a  greater  intellectual 
struggle  going  on  now  about  us,  than  the  world  in  its  whole 
history  has  ever  before  witnessed  ;  the  difference  that  is  at  the 
heart  of  it  is  wider  and  more  profound.  And  yet  never  in  any 
past  period  has  the  philosophic  and  the  theological  hatred 

1  The  Nineteenth  Century,  September,  1877,  and  January,  1878. 


282  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

been  felt  so  little  or  been  so  well  suppressed  by  the  disputants ; 
whilst  amongst  the  world  at  large  that  intelligently  watches 
the  movement,  and  with  interest  abides  the  result  of  it,  prej- 
udice seems  almost  completely  to  be  laid  to  sleep,  and  to 
have  given  place  to  a  true  judicial  calm.  Our  avowed  desire 
is  simply  to  discover  where  truth  lies,  not  to  discover  that  it 
lies  either  here  or  there.  Truth  is  the  pearl  we  want,  and  the 
divers  may  seek  for  it  either  in  cesspools  or  in  crystal  seas. 
Let  them  only  prove  to  us  satisfactorily  where  it  is  to  be  found. 
It  is  not  by  its  locality  that  we  shall  judge  of  its  value. 

A  toleration  so  catholic  and  so  complete  as  this  seems 
doubtless  a  very  attractive  thing,  and  is  hailed  by  many  wise 
and  worthy  men  as  the  fairest  and  surest  sign  of  a  really 
enlightened  age.  It  is  to  be  feared,  however,  that  in  this  view 
we  flatter  ourselves  too  much.  In  some  small  measure  our 
toleration  may  indeed  be  a  sign  of  our  enlightenment,  but  in  a 
far  greater  measure  it  is  a  sign  and  an  effect  of  our  ignorance. 
We  are  tolerant  of  various  views,  because  we  have  grasped  the 
full  meaning  of  none  of  them.  We  are  calm  as  we  watch  the 
battle,  because  we  are  happily  unconscious  of  what  hangs  on 
the  issue  of  it. 

This  unconsciousness  is  as  easy  to  explain  as  it  is  difficult 
to  excuse.  It  lies  in  the  following  fact.  The  seat  of  war,  so 
to  speak,  is  at  present  in  a  distant  countr)\  Our  homes,  our 
families,  and  the  course  of  our  daily  lives  are  not  disturbed  by 
it.  The  questions  now  dividing  the  intellectual  world  are  as 
yet  unpractical  and  remote  ones.  They  deal  with  the  most 
distant  things  of  the  past,  or  the  most  elusive  things  of  the 
present — with  the  connection  of  mind  and  body,  with  the 


/S  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ?  283 

foundations  of  morality,  with  the  descent  of  man,  with  the 
origin  of  life,  with  the  composition  of  matter,  with  the  existence 
or  non-existence  of  a  first  cause.  Such  questions  as  these 
hardly  ever  occur  to  us,  much  less  do  we  seriously  think  them 
over,  except  in  times  of  leisure  or  retirement.  When  we  are 
engaged  in  action,  or  when  we  are  stirred  by  feeling,  they 
recede  entirely  from  us  ;  we  forget  that  we  have  ever  known 
them.  No  questions,  however,  are  simply  abstract  that  are  of 
any  importance  to  the  world  at  large,  or  that  the  world  at 
large  takes  any  genuine  interest  in.  They  may  seem  to  be  so, 
but  they  are  not  so  ;  and  the  world  by  a  keen  instinct  feels  that 
they  are  not  so,  long  before  this  feeling  has  become  con- 
scious knowledge,  and  before  conscious  knowledge  has  pro- 
duced wisdom.  Sooner  or  later,  directly  or  indirectly,  such 
questions  will  show  their  bearing  on  life.  They  will  become 
capable  of  being  expressed  in  terms  of  action  ;  and  we  shall 
discuss  the  distant  premisses  under  the  form  of  the  near 
conclusion.  And  not  this  only  ;  not  only  shall  we  thus  discuss 
them,  but  it  is  this  last  discussion,  this  discussion  of  the  con- 
clusion, that  will  really  be  the  decisive  one.  It  may  reverse 
in  a  moment  all  former  judgments,  and  from  it  there  will  be 
no  appeal.  Philosophies,  let  us  remember,  exist  for  the  world, 
not  the  world  for  philosophies  ;  and  philosophies  can  only 
rule  the  world  by  guiding  it  in  directions  which  it  is  willing 
itself  to  take.  Let  them  try  to  do  it  violence,  and  to  force  it, 
no  matter  on  whaf  grounds  :  it  will  argue  back  from  the  practi- 
cal conclusions  to  the  theoretical  premises  ;  and  if  it  rejects 
the  latter  as  repulsive,  it  will  wisely  and  inevitably  condemn 
the  former  as  false. 


J 84  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

.  The  world,  then,  is  tolerant  at  present  of  all  the  rival 
theories  that  so  much  engage  its  attention,  because  it  is  not 
yet  aware  of  the  rival  practical  meanings  which  lurk  below, 
but  only  a  little  below,  the  surface  of  them.  I  have  no  wish 
to  pronounce  on  these  any  judgment  of  my  own.  To  do  so 
would  be  quite  beside  my  point.  My  aim  is  a  far  humbler  one. 
It  is  simply  to  awake  others,  and  enable  them  to  pass  judg- 
ment for  themselves.  It  is  my  aim  to  make  them  see  what  in 
these  days  we  are  really  all  debating  about,  and  to  show  them 
that  it  is  not  only  first  causes,  and  natural  selection,  and  the 
condition  of  the  universe  millions  of  years  ago ;  but  the  tone 
and  character  of  our  human  existence  now — our  hopes,  our 
fears,  our  affections,  even  our  amusements,  our  relations  with 
our  wives  and  parents,  and  the  education  of  our  children.  It 
is  all  under  debate — the  entire  scheme  and  conduct  of  our 
Jives,  the  complexion  of  each  short  day  of  them  from  sunrise 
to  sunset.  But  of  this  the  world  seems  quite  ignorant ;  and, 
being  ignorant  it  can  easily  afford  to  be  tolerant. 

Let  us  examine  the  matter  more  particularly,  but  first  let 
us  make  our  minds  clear  about  one  important  point. 

The  schools  of  thought  that  are  being  now  developed 
about  us  seem  from  some  points  of  view  to  be  very  various. 
Theologies,  moral  philosophies,  and  materialisms  distract  our 
attention  with  their  endless  details,  and,  seen  through  a  dim 
intellectual  twilight,  look  even  more  confused  and  numerous 
than  they  really  are.  But  there  is  one  grafid  division  to  be 
made  between  them,  at  which  they  at  once  form  into  order, 
and  are  forced  to  group  themselves  into  two  classes,  between 
which  there  is  no  sympathy  and  no  connection,  and  between 


7^  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ?  285 

which  the  line  of  separation  is  sharp,  distinct,  and  insupera- 
ble, and  between  which,  if  their  difference  have  any  meaning 
at  all,  accounts  must  first  be  settled  before  we  can  with  profit 
proceed  an  inch  further.  The  one  of  these  classes  is  distin- 
guished by  the  affirmation,  the  other  by  the  denial,  of  two 
dogmas — the  existence  of  a  personal  God,  and  the  personal 
immortality  of  man.  The  distinct  affirmation  of  these  I  shall 
call  Religion,  or  Belief ;  the  distinct  denial  of  them  I  shall 
call  Atheism,  or  Unbelief.  I  need  not  pause  to  defend  this 
use  of  the  words.  For  the  present  it  is  enough  that  I  ex- 
plain it. 

It  is  true  that  Religion  and  Atheism  represent  opposite 
poles  of  thought,  and  that  between  these  two  certainties 
there  are  all  gradations  of  doubt.  But  with  none  of  these 
forms  of  doubt  need  we  now  concern  ourselves  ;  and  for  this 
reason.  My  aim  is  not  now  to  deal  with  conditions  of  mind, 
but  with  the  practical,  with  the  active  results  which  such  con- 
ditions produce.  If  neither  Religion  nor  Atheism  have  any 
practical  effect  on  the  conduct  and  character  of  life,  if  their 
axioms  are  mere  barren  propositions  beginning  and  ending 
with  themselves,  without  any  significance,  be  it  ever  so  small, 
to  the -human  race  at  large,  it  is  a  foolish  waste  of  time  tc 
affirm  or  to  deny  either  of  them.  They  may  serve  to  amuse  the 
barbarous  leisure  of  pedants,  but  all  except  pedants  will  wisely 
refuse  a  thought  to  them.  If,  however,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
have  any  effect  at  all,  then,  in  so  far  as  certainty  either  way 
can  direct  or  stimulate  action,  doubt  in  a  like  degree  must 
paralyse  and  arrest  it.  But  it  is  in  action  that  man's  life  and 
health  consist ;    what  tends  to  hinder  action  is  the  beginning 


286  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

of  death.  The  philosophy  of  complete  doubt  therefore  stands 
self-condemned.  It  still  exists,  it  is  true  ;  the  sentence  upon 
it  has  never  been  fully  executed  ;  but  it  exists  as  a  disease — 
a  disease,  indeed,  from  which  some  of  us  may  ourselves  be 
suffering,  but  which  it  seems  hardly  conceivable  that  any  one 
in  his  senses  should  boast  of,  still  less  try  to  propagate  \ 
whilst,  if  the  doubt  be  not  complete,  if  it  be  not  balanced 
perfectly  in  the  centre,  it  must  be  always  tending  either  to 
one  pole  or  the  other,  and  its  right  name  would  be  incomplete 
'  religion  or  incomplete  atheism,  neither  of  which  stages  is 
final  ;  and,  the  incompleteness  being  in  each  case  an  imper- 
fection, it  must  be  got  rid  of  before  we  can  do  any  justice  to 
either  side. 

The  matter,  then,  is  thus  far  simplified.  All  minor  differ- 
ences, of  whatever  magnitude,  for  the  present  may  be  quite 
dropped.  We  will  but  busy  ourselves  with  the  greatest  dif- 
ference of  all.  As  far  as  we  are  concerned,  there  are  but 
two  parties  now  contending,  and  these  parties  are  Religion 
and  Atheism,  Belief  and  Unbelief,  those  fundamental  oppo- 
sites,  those  irreconcilable  enemies.  Such  being  the  case,  we 
may  indeed  find  matter  for  wonder  in  the  extreme  forbearance 
with  which  the  contest  is  conducted,  and  the  impartiality, 
despite  the  interest,  with  which  it  is  watched. 

In  former  times,  when  Atheism  was  vague  and  stammer- 
ing, incomplete  and  unorganized,  it  was  condemned  and  sup- 
pressed with  horror,  anger  and  indignation.  Its  apostles 
were  execrated  as  monsters  doomed  to  eternal  torments.  The 
world  cast  them  out,  and  the  Church  burnt  them.  But  now 
that  Atheism  is  complete  and  organized,  without  concealment 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVINGS  287 

and  without  shame,  its  name  is  not  even  a  term  of  mild 
reproach.  On  the  contrary,  its  most  notorious  professors  are 
honored  and  looked  up  to  by  the  world  in  general,  and  are 
listened  to  with  respectful  patience  by  even  their  professed 
opponents.  Deans  avow  friendship  for  men  compared  with 
whom  Voltaire  is  orthodox,  and  cardinals  with  such  men 
gravely  discuss  beliefs  which  Voltaire  would  have  thought  it 
horrible  to  question. 

The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  Atheism  has  come  forward 
under  changed  conditions.  It  is  based  upon  new  founda- 
tions ;  it  is  animated  with  a  new  temper.  For  the  first  time 
it  rests  itself  not  on  the  private  speculations  of  a  rebellious 
intellect,  not  on  the  ravings  of  a  vile  Parisian  populace  drunk 
with  the  wine  of  politics,  and  suffering  from  political  delirium 
tremens,  but  on  the  deep  and  broad  foundations  of  research, 
experiment,  and  proof.  It  has  thus  lost  all  that  insolence  of 
private  passion  and  of  private  judgment,  which  used  to  make 
it  as  offensive  to  men's  practical  instincts  as  it  was  hostile  to 
their  theoretical  convictions.  Our  modern  atheists  in  profes- 
sion, and  to  a  great  measure  in  fact  are  entirely  free  of  the 
old  personal  bravado  ;  they  claim  to  teach  with  authority, 
because  they  have  been  content  to  learn  with  humility.  For 
they,  too,  have  their  church,  their  infallible  teacher,  to 
whom  they  profess  an  implicit  and  devout  obedience. 
And  this  teacher  is  undoubtedly  an  august  one.  It  is 
none  other  than  Nature  herself,  as  our  powerful  science 
compels  her  answers  from  her — Nature,  in  the  widest  sense 
of  the  word,  including  the  history  of  the  universe  and  the 
history  of  the  human  race,  and  the  laws  in  obedience  to  which 


288  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

this  history  has  developed  itself.  Here,  we  are  told,  is  our 
one  source  of  knowledge ;  here  we  learn  the  truth,  and  the 
whole  truth.  Nature  bears  witness  about  every  conceivable 
subject ;  there  is  no  rational  question  which,  if  we  do  but  ask 
it  properly,  she  will  not  answer.  She  will  require  no  faith 
from  us ;  she  will  ask  us  to  take  nothing  on  trust.  Everything 
that  she  teaches  us  she  will  prove  and  verify  ;  and  there  is  no 
variableness  in  her,  nor  any  shadow  of  turning.  "  Come, 
then  " — this  is  the  appeal  that  our  modern  atheists  make  to 
us — "  and  let  us  learn  of  Nature  ;  let  us  listen  to  the  voice  of 
Truth !  "  And  what  does  Truth  tell  us  ?  Among  many 
things  Truth  tells  us  two,  which  are  of  prime  importance,  and 
which  are  universally  intelligible  to  the  human  race.  There 
is  no  God,  and  there  is  no  future  life.  The  notion  of  the  first 
is  unnecessary,  and  that  of  the  second  is  ridiculous.  In  the 
name  of  Truth,  then,  let  us  cast  these  lies  away  from  us, 
however  painfully  for  the  moment  we  may  feel  their  loss, 
however  closely  they  may  be  bound  up  for  us  with  memories 
of  the  past.  But  we  are  not  left  with  this  exhortation  only. 
Something  more  is  added  to  sustain  and  stimulate  us.  These 
lies,  we  are  told,  if  we  will  but  look  them  boldly  in  the  face, 
instead  of  blinking  at  them  out  of  deference  to  their  supposed 
divinity,  we  shall  see  to  be  not  lies  only,  but  profoundly  im- 
moral lies.  It  is,  therefore,  in  the  name  not  of  selfish  indul- 
gence, not  of  license  and  free-living,  but  of  sacred  truth  and 
all  the  severest  principles,  that  we  are  invited  to  accept  the 
creed  of  Atheism,  and  to  cast  out  Religion.  Thus  the 
Atheism  of  to-day,  though  theoretically  destructive,  is  practi- 
cally conservative.     It  no  longer  assails  society  as  it  is,  or  any 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  289 

of  those  rules  that  sustain  it,  or  the  chastened  affections  that 
are  supposed  to  make  it  worth  sustaining.  It  is  associated  no 
longer  with  any  dissolute  wit,  with  any  cruel  and  brilliant 
cynicism,  or  with  the  fascinations  of  lawless  love.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  on  the  whole  somewhat  dull ;  and,  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  it  is  eminently  respectable.  It  is  the  Atheism  of 
the  vigil,  not  of  the  orgy ;  and  its  character  when  developed 
is  solemn,  almost  puritanical.  Study  the  language,  the  con- 
duct, even  the  faces  of  its  most  eminent  exponents,  and  signs 
will  be  apparent  everywhere  of  gravity  and  of  severe  earnest- 
ness. These  are  men,  we  see  in  a  glance,  who  hold  life  a 
serious  thing — a  thing  not  to  be  trifled  away  in  idleness,  how- 
ever harmless,  or  in  licentious  self-indulgence,  however  refined 
or  graceful.  What  is  really  of  value  in  life,  what  men  should 
really  strive  for,  are  things  to  be  reached  only  by  self-denial 
and  labor,  and  a  vigilant  rigor  in  the  guidance  and  control 
of  our  passions.  Those  who  pay  no  heed  to  the  better  part, 
but  who  saunter,  who  lounge,  who  smile,  who  sneer  through 
life,  are  condemned  by  the  atheists  even  more  grimly  than  by 
the  believers. 

Here,  then,  is  the  explanation  of  our  modern  tolerance. 
Both  the  opposing  schools  unite  in  one  point ;  and  this  is  the 
only  point  on  which  difference  could  not  be  forgotten,  and  on 
which  agreement  must  be  hourly  felt  and  remembered.  Both 
agree  in  their  determination  to  enforce  morality,  to  enjoin 
strictly  on  men  one  certain  line  of  conduct,  and  by  some 
means  or  other  to  persuade  or  constrain  them  to  follow  it. 
The  two  schools  may  differ  as  to  minor  details  ;  this  compara- 
tively is  of  small  moment.     All  that  we  need  now  remember 

19 


290  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

is  that  they  agree  about  the  great  premiss,  which,  though  often 
not  expressed,  is  implied  in  all  moral  systems  whatsoever,  and 
without  which  it  is  manifest  they  must  all  fall  to  the  ground. 
That  premiss  is  this  : — Human  life  is  a  thing  of  solemn  im- 
portance;  it  is  of  the  utmost  matter  how  we  live  it.  Lived 
in  OJie  way,  it  is  a  hateful  failure ;  lived  in  another,  it  is  a 
beautiful  success.  In  other  words,  there  is  something  in  it  of 
such  consummate  and  incomparable  value  that  its  attainment 
will  repay  every  possible  cost  to  us  of  weariness,  of  patience, 
and  of  torture,  and,  once  attained,  will  make  us  feel  truly  that 
we  have  not  lived  in  vain.  Thus  human  endeavor  has  a 
meaning,  and,  rightly  directed,  is  sure  of  its  own  reward. 
Life  is  not  vanity,  it  is  not  vexation  of  spirit.  Of  the  existence 
of  this  precious  something  that  gives  life  its  value  there  is 
no  question ;  that,  by  both  parties,  is  taken  for  granted.  The 
only  question  is  as  to  its  analysis — what  are  its  component 
parts,  on  what  is  its  value  founded  ?  Thus  the  rival  parties 
are  agreed  to  share  the  treasure  ;  their  only  contest  is  as  to 
who  shall  protect  the  treasury. 

There  is  one  fact,  however,  which  the  unbelievers  pass  by. 
They  are  sometimes  so  ignorant  that  they  do  not  know  of  it ; 
they  are  sometimes  so  preoccupied  that  they  forget  it ;  they 
are  often  of  what  we  should  most  of  us  call  so  fine  a  nature 
that  they  can  but  imperfectly  understand  it.  At  any  rate, 
from  whatever  cause,  they  one  and  all  ignore  it ;  or  when  for 
a  moment  sometimes  it  is  actually  forced  upon  their  notice, 
they  only  put  it  aside  with  anger  and  irritation.  They  will  not 
even  examine  it.  This  fact,  however,  is  one  that  must  be 
dealt  with — that  we  must  look  fully  in  the  face.     Sooner  or 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  29 1 

later  we  shall  have  to  do  so.  We  cannot  dispose  of  it  either 
by  ill-temper  or  forgetfulness.  Let  us  try  to  consider  it,  and 
calmly  value  its  importance. 

We  can  most  of  us,  we  can  probably  all  of  us,  remember 
times  in  the  course  of  our  lives,  when  we  have  felt  like  Mac- 
beth or  Hamlet  in  their  most  desponding  moods.  We  have 
heard  the  rumor  of  life  as  it  were  an  idiot's  tale  in  our  ears, 
full  of  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing  ;  all  the  uses  of  the 
world  have  seemed  weary,  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable  to  us. 
We  have  thought  that  there  was  nothing  worth  striving  for, 
that  there  was  no  profit  under  the  sun.  The  splendor  has 
gone  from  the  grass,  the  glory  from  the  flower.  Knowledge, 
life,  affection — all  these  have  ceased  to  appeal  to  us.  We 
have  felt  that  we  must  do  something,  but  that  it  was  no  matter 
what  we  did.  To  some  of  us  suicide  has  no  doubt  suggested 
itself ;  and  to  others  the  more  popular  philosophy,  so  tersely 
expressed  by  Byron,  that — 

Man,  being  reasonable,  must  get  drunk. 

This  view,  however,  even  by  most  of  those  who  hold  it,  has 
been  felt  to  be  really  but  a  half-view  in  the  guise  of  a  whole 
one.  It  has  else  been  intentionally  adopted  as  a  kind  of 
solemn  affectation,  or  it  has  else  been  lamented  as  a  miser- 
able sad  disease.  It  is  a  view,  indeed,  that  healthy  intellects 
have  hitherto  declined  even  to  consider.  Its  advocates  have 
met  with  neglect,  contempt,  or  castigation,  not  with  arguments ; 
they  have  been  pitied  as  insane,  condemned  as  cynical,  or 
passed  over  as  frivolous.  And  yet  but  for  one  reason, 
this   view  would   have  been  to   the  whole  modern  world  not 


292  QUESTIONS  OF  BEIIEF. 

only  not  untenable,  but  even  obvious.  The  emptiness  of  the 
things  of  this  life,  their  utter  powerlessness  to  make  us  really 
happy,  has  been  the  theme  equally  of  saints  and  sages.  Com- 
merce with  the  world  and  meditation  in  the  cloister  seemed 
to  teach  all  of  them  the  same  lesson,  seemed  to  preach  to 
them  the  same  sermon  de  contemptu  mundi.  The  view  which 
the  eager  monk  began  with,  the  sated  monarch  ended  with. 
But  matters  did  not  end  here.  There  was  something  more  to 
come,  by  which  this  view  was  completely  changed  and  trans- 
muted, and  which  made  the  wilderness  and  the  waste  place 
at  once  blossom  as  the  rose.  Judged  of  by  itself,  this  life 
would  indeed  be  vanity ;  but  it  was  not  to  be  judged  of  by 
itself.  All  its  ways  seemed  to  break  short  aimlessly  in  preci- 
pices, or  to  be  lost  hopelessly  in  deserts  ;  they  led  to  no  visi- 
ble end.  True  ;  but  they  led  instead  to  ends  that  were  invisi- 
ble— to  spiritual  and  eternal  destinies,  to  triumphs  exceeding 
every  hope,  to  terrible  failures  exceeding  every  fear.  This, 
all  men  might  see  if  they  would  only  choose  to  see.  The 
most  trivial  of  our  daily  actions  became  thus  invested  with  an 
immeasurable  meaning.  Life  was  thus  evidently  not  vanity, 
not  an  idiot's  tale,  not  unprofitable ;  and  those  who  affected 
to  think  it  was  were  naturally  disregarded  by  the  world  as 
either  insane  or  insincere. 

But  now  with  the  unbelievers  all  this  is  changed.  They, 
too,  hold  that  life  is  serious  ;  as  serious,  they  say,  as  the  be- 
lievers hold  it — nay,  even  more  so.  But  they  must  base  this 
faith  of  theirs  upon  quite  new  reasons  ;  they  must  find  quite  a 
new  answer  with  which  to  confute  objectors.  It  is,  in  fact, 
their  boast  that  they  are  obliged  to  do  so.     Not  only  do  they 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  293 

think  the  old  answers  to  be  insufficient  or  beside  the  point, 
but  they  think  them  to  be  lies,  to  be  groundless  lies,  to  be  im- 
moral lies.  To  destroy  them,  to  cast  them  out,  to  cleanse  the 
world  of  them,  is  with  our  new  teachers  the  very  beginning  of 
progress.  What  then  is  the  practical  result,  or  rather  the  prac- 
tical meaning,  of  this  ?  An  extreme  value  to  life,  we  have 
seen,  they  are  resolved — indeed,  being  moralists,  they  are 
obliged — to  give  ;  they  will  not  tolerate  those  who  deny  this 
value.  But  they  are  obliged  to  find  the  value  in  a  new 
place — in  the  very  place  where  hitherto  it  has  been  thought 
most  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  It  is  to  be  found  in  no 
better  and  wider  future,  where  injustice  shall  be  turned  to  jus- 
tice, trouble  into  rest,  and  blindness  into  clear  sight ;  for  no 
such  future  awaits  us.  It  is  to  be  found  in  life  itself,  in  this 
earthly  life,  this  life  between  the  cradle  and  the  grave — there 
or  nowhere  ;  and  within  these  limits  they  imply  it  assuredly  is 
to  be  found — found  and  attained  also,  for  it  is  nothing  if  not 
attainable.  Here,  then,  is  a  distinct  intelligible  task  that  the 
unbelievers  have  unintentionally  set  themselves  ;  and  when 
they  realize  what  it  is,  they  may  perhaps  be  startled  at  its 
boldness.  They  have  taken  everything  away  from  life  that 
to  wise  men  hitherto  has  seemed  to  redeem  it  from  van- 
ity. They  have  to  prove  to  us  that  they  have  not  left  it  vain. 
They  have  to  prove  those  things  to  be  solid  which  their  pre- 
decessors thought  hollow,  those  things  serious  which  their  pre- 
decessors thought  contemptible  ;  they  must  prove  to  us  that 
we  shall  be  content  with  that  which  has  never  yet  contented 
us,  and  that  the  widest  minds  will  thrive  within  limits  that 
have  hitherto  been  thought  too  narrow  for  the  narrowest.  They 


294  QUESTIO.VS  OF  BELIEF. 

may  be  able  to  prove  this  ;  there  is  nothing  on  the  face  of  it 
that  is  impossible.  But  at  all  events  it  requires  to  be  proved. 
They  must  not  beg  the  very  point  which  is  most  open  to  con- 
tradiction, and  which,  when  once  duly  apprehended,  will  be 
most  sure  to  provoke  it.  If  this  life  is  not  of  itself  incapable 
of  satisfying  us,  let  them  show  us  conclusively  that  it  is  not. 
But  they  can  hardly  expect  that,  without  any  such  showing  at 
all,  the  world  will  suddenly  repel  as  a  blasphemy  what  it  has 
hitherto  accepted  as  a  commonplace. 

If  we  consider  the  matter  a  little  further,  this  will  become 
more  evident. 

All  systems  of  morality,  we  have  seen,  must  postulate  some 
end  of  action — an  end  that  is  worth  living  for — an  end  that  is 
supremely  good  for  us  to  gain,  and  supremely  ill  for  us  to 
lose — an  end  that  we  can  only  gain  by  virtue,  and  that  we 
must  lose  by  vice.  We  have  seen  also  that  every  system  of 
morality  that  is  not  religious  must  place  this  end  wholly  within 
the  present  life.  Life,  this  terrestrial  human  life,  it  premises, 
contains  something  in  it  that  can  satisfy  man  ;  and  this  some- 
thing is  to  be  reached  only  in  certain  ways— ways  that  can  be 
prescribed,  and  taught,  and  which  are  named  morality. 
Now  let  us  reflect  a  little  about  this  something,  and  see  gener- 
ally what  sort  of  something  it  must  be,  if  it  is  to  satisfy  all  the 
demands  that  will  necessarily  be  made  upon  it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  of  course  a  something  whose  value 
can  be,  and  is,  recognized  by  those  who  follow  it.  Virtuous 
men  are  virtuous  because  virtue  brings  them  something  which 
they  wish  to  be  brought  to  them — because  the  end  it  aims  at 
seems  to  them  the  highest  aim.     But  this  is  not  all.     It  js 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ?  295 

not  enough  that  to  those  who  already  know  it,  and  who  are 
already  seeking  and  finding  it,  the  something  in  question  ap- 
pears an  adequate  end  of  action.  It  must  be  capable  of  be- 
ing put  as  such  before  those  who  already  do  not  know  it, 
and  who  have  never  sought  it,  but  who  have,  on  the  contrary, 
always  turned  away  from  everything  that  is  supposed  to  lead 
to  it.  It  must  be  able,  in  other  words,  not  only  to  satisfy  the 
virtuous  of  the  wisdom  of  their  virtue ;  it  must  be  able  to  con- 
vince the  vicious  of  the  folly  of  their  vice.  If  it  cannot  fulfil 
this  condition,  the  atheistic  moralist  can  make  no  converts. 
Vice  is  only  bad  in  his  eyes  because  of  the  precious  some- 
thing we  lose  by  it.  He  can  only  convince  us  of  our  error  by 
giving  us  some  picture  of  our  loss.  And  this,  if  his  moral 
system  be  worth  anything,  he  must  be  able  to  do,  and,  in  pro- 
mulgating his  system,  he  professes  to  be  able  to  do.  The 
physician's  work  is  to  heal  the  sick.  His  skill  must  not  end 
in  explaining  his  own  health. 

Here,  then,  is  an  important  fact  about  the  supreme  some- 
thing— that  somethifig  that  alone  makes  life  serious,  and  that 
is  of  necessity  postulated  by  every  unbelieving  moralist.  It 
is  nothing,  as  we  have  already  said,  if  not  attainable.  We 
now  see  that  it  is  next  to  nothing  if  not  describable. 

Let  us  go  a  little  farther. 

One  term  of  description  we  may  at  once  apply  to  it,  as 
about  that  there  has  been  no  question.  The  something  \vq  are 
in  search  of  is  some  form  of  happiness.  But  it  is  not  enough 
to  call  it  happiness.  For  of  happiness  there  are  countless 
kinds  ;  and  one  or  other  of  these  all  men  follow,  and  take 
very  different  paths  in  doing  so.     But  it  is  plain  that  they 


2^6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

are  not  for  this  reason  moral.  Else  there  would  be  an  indef- 
inite number  of  moralities,  and  we  might  multiply  them  at 
our  own  caprice.  But  this  plainly  is  not  the  case.  Of  moral- 
ities, unless  we  give  the  word  an  entirely  new  meaning,  there 
is  fundamentally  only  one,  and  this  is  equally  applicable  to 
all  varieties  of  men.  Morality,  then,  is  the  art  of  one  single 
kind  of  happiness ;  and  this  happiness  will,  when  once  known, 
be  attractive  to  all  alike,  despite  every  difference  of  situation, 
taste,  and  temper.  It  will  be  attractive,  too,  in  so  superla- 
tive a  degree,  that  every  pleasure  will  be  gladly  sacrificed, 
and  every  pain  gladly  suffered  for  it,  by  those  who  have  once 
seen  it  in  its  true  colors. 

It  thus  appears,  then,  that  all  those  who,  dispensing  with 
religion,  would  yet  maintain  morality  stand  committed  to  the 
following  statement — that  human  life  contains  for  those  who 
seek  it  a  certain  kind  of  happiness  so  supreme  and  satisfying 
that  if  a  man  gain  the  whole  world  and  yet  lose  this,  his  en- 
tire career  is  but  a  calamitous  failure.  And  this  supreme  kind 
of  happiness  is  the  same  for  all ;  it  is  within  the  reach  of  all ; 
when  once  fully  known  it  is  irresistibly  attractive  to  all ;  and, 
by  some  means  or  other,  it  is  describable  or  presentable  to  all. 

And  now  let  us  dwell  once  again  on  this  last  character- 
istic, and  see  a  little  more  clearly  how  essential  it  is. 

A  code  of  morals  is  a  number  of  restraining  orders  ;  it 
rigorously  bids  us  walk  in  certain  paths.  But  why  ?  What  is 
the  use  of  bidding  us  ?  Because  there  are  a  variety  of  other 
paths  that  we  are  naturally  inclined  to  walk  in.  The  right 
paths  are  right  because  they  lead  to  the  highest  kind  of  hap- 
piness ;  the  wrong  paths  are  wrong  because  they  lead  to  lower 


IS  LIFE  WOR  TH  LIVING  ?  297 

kinds  of  happiness.  But  when  men  choose  vice  instead  of 
virtue,  what  is  happening?  They  are  considering  the  lower 
happiness  better  than  the  highest ;  they  are  making  a  mistake 
as  to  the  value  of  the  end.  It  is  this  mistake  that  is  the  es- 
sence and  the  cause  of  immorality ;  it  is  this  mistake  that 
mankind  is  for  ever  inclined  to  make ;  and  it  is  the  great  rai' 
son  d'etre  of  a  moral  system  that  it  can  bring  this  mistake 
home  to  us,  and  so  cure  us  of  it ;  that  it  can  open  our  mind's 
eyes,  and  show  us  that  the  highest  happiness  is  indeed  the 
highest,  and  so  make  us  sharply  conscious  of  what  we  lose  by 
losing  it.  This  highest  happiness  must,  then,  be  describable 
or  presentable  ;  and  the  men  to  whom  we  shall  chiefly  v/ant 
to  present  it  are  not  men  who  desire  to  see  it,  and  will  seek 
for  it  of  their  own  accord,  but  men  who  are  turned  away  from 
it,  and  on  whose  sight  it  must  be  thrust.  And  not  this  only. 
Not  only  must  it  be  thus  presentable,  but  when  presented  it 
must  be  able  to  stand  the  inveterate  criticism  of  those  who 
fear  being  allured  by  it,  who  are  content  as  they  are,  and  have 
no  wish  to  be  rendered  discontented.  These  men  will  sub- 
mit it  to  every  test  by  which  they  may  hope  to  prove  that  its 
attractions  are  delusive.  They  will  ask  what  it  is  based  upon, 
and  of  what  it  is  compounded.  They  will  submit  it  to  an 
analysis  as  merciless  as  that  by  which  their  atheistic  advisers 
and  censors  have  destroyed  religion.  They  will  test  it  with 
reason,  as  we  test  a  metal  by  acid.  It  must,  therefore,  be 
able  to  bear  this  fiery  and  fierce  ordeal,  and  come  out  none 
the  worse  for  it.  Not  only  must  it  have  a  bloom  of  beauty  on 
it  at  first  sight,  but  this  beauty  must  bear  handling,  and  must 
be  insoluble  by  reason,  with  which  it  is  sure  to  be  tested. 


298  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Now  is  this  happiness  a  realit)^  or  is  it  a  myth  ?  That  is 
the  great  question.  Can  human  life,  cut  off  utterly  from 
every  hope  beyond  itself — can  human  life  supply  it  ?  If  it 
cannot,  then  evidently  there  can  be  no  morality  without  re- 
ligion. But  perhaps  it  can.  But  perhaps  life  has  greater 
capacities  than  we  have  hitherto  given  it  credit  for.  Perhaps 
this  happiness  may  be  really  not  far  from  any  one  of  us, 
and  we  have  only  overlooked  it  hitherto  because  it  was  too 
directly  before  our  eyes.  If  so,  let  it  be  pointed  out  to  us. 
It  is  useless,  as  we  have  seen,  if  not  presentable.  To  those 
who  most  need  it,  it  is  useless  until  presented.  Indeed,  until 
it  is  presented,  we  are  but  acting  on  our  teacher's  maxim 
by  refusing  to  believe  in  it.  And  as  yet  it  never  has  been 
presented.  No  image  of  any  kind  of  terrestrial  happiness 
has  as  yet  been  put  before  the  world  that  can  at  all  bear 
the  weight  that  will  be  put  upon  it,  as  the  foundation  of 
morality,  unless  we  give  morality  an  entirely  new  and,  in 
many  points,  an  entirely  inverted  meaning. 

I  know  that  this  statement  will  be  contradicted  by  many, 
and,  till  it  is  explained  further,  it  is  only  natural  that  it  should 
be.  It  will  be  said  that  a  terrestrial  happiness,  just  of  the 
kind  needed,  has  been  put  by  the  unbelieving  moralists  before 
the  world  again  and  again.  Is  not  virtue,  it  has  been  asked 
us,  its  own  reward  ?  Shall  we  only  be  generous,  be  kind,  be 
brave,  be  true,  for  the  hope  of  future  payment,  or  the  fear  of 
future  pain  ?  Shall  we  not  rather  be  all  these  things  for  the 
simple  sake  of  being  them  ?  and  shall  not  we  find  ample 
blessedness  in  this  ?  I  know  that  all  this  has  been  urged  upon 
us,  and  that  it  is  being  urged  upon  us  daily  nov-r.     But  with 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING i  299 

what  results  ?  With  none,  or  rather  with  far  worse  than  none. 
Not  only  has  it  done  absolutely  nothing  towards  clearing  up 
the  matter,  but  it  has,  on  the  contrary,  completely  disordered 
and  confused  it.  It  has  reduced  it  to  a  state  in  which  it  is 
impossible  to  pass  any  judgment  on  it.  And  the  reason  why 
is  simple.  It  begs  the  answer  in  the  very  terms  in  which  it 
propounds  the  question. 

This  hitherto  has  been  the  fault  of  all  the  unbelieving 
moralists.  They  will  never  state  their  own  position  clearly. 
I  have  said  they  will  not,  but  it  must  be  more  true  to  say  they 
cannot.  They  apparently  only  mystify  others,  because  they 
have  first  honestly  mystified  themselves.  At  any  rate,  the 
first  thing  to  be  done,  before  we  proceed  further,  is  to  extri- 
cate the  question  from  all  those  irrelevant  surroundings  which 
so  completely  hide  its  features  as  it  is  at  present  presented 
to  us. 

As  it  is  necessary  before  all  things  that  this  be  done  thor- 
oughly, I  will  not  contend  with  the  vague  representative  gener- 
alities which  I  just  now  put  into  the  mouths  of  the  unbelievers. 
I  will  take  the  very  words  of  one  of  themselves,  and  these 
words  shall  be  the  most  favorable  and  complete  specimen  I 
am  able  to  find  of  their  way  of  putting  the  case.  They  shall 
show  in  its  best  and  most  alluring  light  the  code  of  atheistic 
ethics  as  it  is  offered  to  us  by  our  modern  atheists.  We  shall 
then  see  distinctly  with  that  we  have  first  to  deal. 

The  following  verses  are  George  Eliot's : 

Oh  may  T  join  the  choir  invisible 

Of  those  immortal  dead,  who  live  again 

In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence  .  .  . 


300  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

So  to  live  is  heaven  .  .  . 
To  make  undying  music  in  the  world, 
Breathing  us  beauteous  order  that  controls 
With  growing  sway  the  growing  life  of  man. 
So  we  inherit  that  sweet  purity 
For  which  we  struggled,  groaned,  and  agonised 
With  widening  retrospect  that  bred  despair  .  .  . 
That  better  self  shall  live  till  human  time 
Shall  fold  its  eyelids,  and  the  human  sky 
Be  gathered  like  a  scroll  within  the  tomb, 
Unread  for  ever.    This  is  life  to  come. 
Which  martyred  men  have  made  more  glorious 
For  us  who  strive  to  follow.     May  I  reach 
That  purest  heaven,  and  be  to  other  souls 
That  cup  of  strength  in  some  great  agony, 
Enkindle  generous  ardour,  feed  pure  love, 
Beget  the  smiles  that  have  no  cruelty. 
Be  the  sweet  presence  of  a  good  diffused, 
And  in  diffusion  ever  more  intense  ; 
So  shall  I  join  that  choir  invisible, 
Whose  music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world. 

In  these  remarkable  verses  we  have  the  whole  gospel  of 
atheistic  ethics,  as  it  is  now  preached  to  us,  presented  in  an 
impassioned  epitome.  All  that  our  unbelieving  moralists  say 
we  have  condensed  here,  and  condensed  in  such  a  way  that  it 
shall  look  at  its  very  best,  that  it  shall  look  as  beautiful  and  as 
alluring  as  it  possibly  can  be  made  to  look.  Indeed,  the  objec- 
tion might  readily  suggest  itself  that  it  was  too  beautiful,  too 
highly  strung — that  it  was  fit  only  for  saints  and  heroes.  This 
objection,  however,  is  a  completely  false  one.  It  would  apply 
equally  well  to  any  system  of  morality  that  tended  to  raise  men. 
Our  professions  must  be  above  our  practice,  else  our  practice 
would  soon  sink  below  our  professions.  We  are  only  not  worse 
than  we  are,  because  we  know  we  ought  to  be  better.  A  moral- 
ity will  never  save  sinners  that  will  not  satisfy  saints,  and  the 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  i  301 

sentiments  of  a  system  must  be  always  suited  to  the  most  ex- 
alted of  those  that  live  by  it.  In  fact  it  is  these  that,  before 
all  others,  it  must  suit ;  for  it  is  they,  though  in  numbers  a 
minority,  that  are  the  primary  sources  of  all  moral  power. 
The  world  may  be  divided  into  two  classes.  The  first  is  com- 
posed of  the  great  mass  of  men  without  strong  ambitions, 
without  strong  principles,  without  either  the  need  or  power 
to  think  things  out  for  themselves.  They  are  content  to  live, 
as  it  were,  from  hand  to  mouth — in  so  far  as  they  are  virtuous 
doing  their  duties,  in  so  far  as  they  are  vicious  avoiding  them, 
with  no  inquiry  into  the  deeper  reasons  of  things,  and  the 
fundamental  difference  between  vice  and  virtue.  The  second 
class  is  a  comparatively  small  one,  though  its  limits  cannot  be 
defined  with  any  great  exactness.  It  consists  of  men  with 
minds  and  wills  so  active  that  they  cannot  take  things  thus 
quietly.  There  are  two  questions,  one  of  which  they  will  ask, 
and  very  often  both  of  them.  What  meaning  can  be  wrung 
out  of  life  ?  and  how  can  we  ourselves  wring  out  this  meaning  ? 
These  are  the  men  who,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  approach 
the  ideals  of  sanctity,  of  heroism,  or  of  genius.  These  are 
the  salt  of  the  earth,  the  little  leaven  hid  in  a  barrel  of  meal 
— the  men  who  have  subdued  kingdoms,  escaped  the  edge  of 
the  sword,  out  of  weakness  been  made  strong,  and  have  put 
to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens.  These  are  the  Pauls  of  the 
world,  and  the  Voltaires  also,  the  Loyolas  and  the  Benthams. 
These  are  that  gifted  minority  by  whom  men's  blind  instincts 
are  converted  into  clear  governing  principles,  and  principles 
shown  in  action  by  example,  by  whom  the  world  is  taught, 
and  whom  the  world  follows.     To  such  men  Georsre  Eliot's 


^02  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

verses  could  not  be  in  any  way  unsatisfactory  on  the  score  of 
their  elevation.  And  such  men,  let  us  remember,  are  all  that 
we  need  now  consider.  For  it  is  these  a  system  must  first 
move  and  satisfy,  before  it  can  move  and  satisfy  any  others. 
If  the  morality  of  atheism  cannot  attract  them,  we  may  be 
quite  sure  it  will  attract  nobody  else.  If  they  are  convinced 
that  religion  is  false,  that  without  religion  there  can  be  no 
power  to  enable  us  to  overcome  temptation,  and  no  reason 
for  desiring  to  do  so,  that  in  a  moral  sense  life  is  worthless, 
and  that  wisdom  and  folly  are  all  one,  much  more  will  the 
world  at  large  be  convinced,  to  whom  wisdom  is  naturally 
irksome,  and  folly  easy. 

And  now,  before  recurring  to  George  Eliot's  verses  let  us 
notice  carefully  one  essential  characteristic  of  the  conduct  of 
this  minority  to  whom  the  verses  are  primarily  addressed. 
Every  human  action  must  have  a  motive,  it  must  aim  at  some 
end  which  the  agent  desires  to  attain.  But  with  the  sort  of 
men  we  are  now  considering  it  is  not  enough  that  the  act  has 
a  motive,  it  must  have  also  a  Justification.  They  must  be  as- 
sured that  the  ends  they  aim  at  are  right  and  worthy  ones. 
This  being  the  case,  we  may  divide  their  actions  into  three 
classes.  In  the  first  the  motive  and  the  justification  are  es- 
sentially inseparable.  The  former  supplies  the  latter.  The 
motive  is  its  own  justification.  The  end,  in  other  words,  is 
good  for  its  own  sake.  That  is  all  we  can  say.  We  can  de- 
fend our  desire  for  it  no  further.  In  the  second  class  of  ac- 
tions the  motive  and  the  justification  are  inseparable  also. 
But  here  matters  are  reversed.  The  latter  supplies  the  for- 
mer.   The  justification  is  the  only  motive.   The  end,  in  other 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  303 

words,  is  in  no  sense  good  for  its  own  sake,  but  only  as  lead- 
ing to  some  other  good  that  is.  Lastly,  there  is  a  third  class 
in  which  the  motive  and  the  justification  are  separate  and  dis- 
tinct things.  Here  the  reasons  for  which  we  choose  an  act 
are  different  from  the  reasons  for  which  we  allow  ourselves  to 
choose  it.  It  is  specially  important  that  this  should  be  un- 
derstood rightly ;  I  will  therefore  give  a  few  examples  of 
what  I  mean.  Let  us  take  the  matter  of  politics.  A  political 
career  has  for  many  men  an  irresistible  fascination.  They 
pursue  it  with  an  appetite  and  an  eagerness  that  seems  utterly 
unconnected  with  anything  else  beyond.  The  only  motives 
they  are  conscious  of  are  excitement  and  ambition.  But  these 
strong  motives  are  not  sufficient.  They  need  a  justification 
to  clench  their  power.  The  justification  is  that  politics  are 
not  absorbing  only,  but  necessary;  not  exciting  only,  but 
useful.  Once  let  this  justification  go,  once  disconnect  the 
success  of  the  statesman  from  the  improvement  of  the  State, 
once  make  it  self-evident  that  in  following  his  own  interests 
he  is  ministering  to  no  interests  beyond  them,  and  the  whole 
charm  of  politics  will  be  gone.  They  will  have  become  nothing 
but  a  game,  and  a  foolish  vapid  game  at  which  no  one  will  care 
to  play.  There  is,  to  take  another  instance,  a  certain  set  of 
excellent  women,  who  are  continually  being  moved  to  giving 
advice  and  telling  the  whole  truth  to  their  friends.  What  can 
be  more  distinct  than  motive  and  justification  here  ?  The 
justification  is  the  good  they  do,  the  motive  is  the  annoyance 
they  give.  Or,  to  come  to  a  commoner  matter  yet,  let  us 
take  the  matter  of  eating.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  our  imme- 
diate motive  for  eating  is  the  immediate  pleasure  which  the 


304  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

process  gives  us.  As  far  as  we  are  conscious  at  the  moment 
eating  is  for  the  most  part  a  simple  self-indulgence.  But  if 
eating  were  nothing  more  than  that,  conscientious  men  would 
never  devote  the  time  to  it  which  they  do  at  present.  It  has, 
however,  a  justification  ;  it  is  necessary  for  maintaining  life. 
We  do  not  remember  this  each  time  we  eat ;  we  do  not  perhaps 
remember  it  so  often  as  once  a  twelvemonth ;  but  the  knowl- 
edge is  always  latent,  and  by  this  knowledge  the  self-indul- 
gence is  justified. 

Here  then  are  three  distinct  classes  of  action.  In  the 
first  the  motive  supplies  its  own  justification  ;  in  the  second 
the  justification  is  the  only  motive  ;  in  the  third  the  motive 
and  the  justification  are  distinct  and  separate.  If  we  lived  to 
eat,  eating  would  belong  to  the  first  class  ;  since  we  eat  to  live, 
eating  does  belong  to  the  third  class.  But  there  is  this  ex- 
ception :  nauseous  food  is  sometimes  taken  medicinally,  and 
then  eating  belongs  to  the  second  class.  To  one  or  other  of 
these  classes  every  act  must  belong  which  any  moral  man 
can  desire  to  practise,  and  every  act  which  any  moralist  can 
enjoin.  It  will  be  seen  further  that  the  whole  justification, 
the  whole  moral  character  in  fact,  of  the  last  two  classes  of 
acts  is  derived  ultimately  from  their  connection  with  the  first. 
In  other  words,  every  moral  act  that  we  can  do  is  either  an 
act  that  aims  at  some  end  good  for  its  own  sake,  and  that 
thus  stands  solely  and  simply  on  its  own  merits ;  or  else  it  is 
only  moral  in  so  far  as  it  tends  to  produce,  to  facillitate,  or  to 
multiply  such  acts.  Such  acts  then,  acts  of  the  first  class, 
acts  of  which  the  motive  supplies  the  only  justification,  are 
tlie  only  acts  that  are  of  themselves  good,  or  virtuous,  or  high, 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ?  305 

or  moral.  It  is  from  them  that  the  others  derive  their  whole 
ethical  charaoter.  And  accordingly,  in  testing  the  sound- 
ness of  ethical  systems,  it  is  with  them  only  that  our  first 
concern  lies.     Everything  else  will  stand  or  fall  with  these. 

And  now,  remembering  this,  let  us  turn  to  George  Eliot's 
verses,  and  get  rid  of  every  act  commended  in  them  which  is 
not  in  itself  moral,  of  which  the  motive  is  not  its  own  justi- 
fication. In  this  way  the  matter  will  be  rapidly  simplified, 
and  we  shall  see  somewhat  more  clearly  what  is  the  real 
point  at  issue.  Now  the  principle  and  the  virtue  that  George 
Eliot  most  dwells  upon,  and  upon  which  she  relies  mainly 
for  exciting  our  sympathies  and  enlisting  them  in  her  cause, 
is  self-sacrifice  and  heroism,  and  a  losing  of  our  individual 
lives  in  the  larger  life  of  our  own  beloved  race.  It  is  thus 
that  she  professes  to  offer  us  a  higher  kind  of  morality  alto- 
gether than  the  old  religious  kind,  which  was,  compared  with 
this,  a  selfish  hireling  thing,  bought  by  a  splendid  promise  of 
future  heavenly  wages.  George  Eliot  herself,  it  is  true,  offers 
us  a  reward ;  but  her  reward  is  quite  different.  Though  our 
own,  it  will  yet  not  be  our  own.  Our  good  will  be  the  good 
of  others  ;  our  life  will  be  the  life  of  others.  For  us  will  be 
agony,  and  groans,  and  struggling  j  but  we  shall  welcome 
them  as  glorious,  we  shall  choose  them  gladly ;  for  by  them 
we  mix  ourselves  with  the  better  self  of  the  whole  great  world, 
we  become  notes  in  its  undying  music.  '  All  this,  no  doubt, 
sounds  very  fine  indeed.  A  class  of  actions  is  here  com- 
mended to  us  that  are  in  many  ways  very  powerfully  attrac- 
tive. But  to  what  class  dp  they  belong  ?  They  belong  all 
of  them  to  those  two  classes  we  have  been  just  considering, 


3o6  QUESTIOiVS  OF  BELIEF. 

of  which  the  motive  is  entirely  distinct  from  the  justification, 
or  else  for  its  force  altogether  depends  upon  it.  They  are 
not  actions  which  stand  on  their  own  merit.  They  are  not 
self-luminous.  It  is  quite  true  that  men  will  often  suffer  and 
die,  and  earn  the  name  of  heroes,  because  it  seems  duke  et 
decorum  to  them  so  to  do.  That  is  the  motive.  But  there 
must  also  be  the  latent  justification,  that  to  themselves  at 
least  the  end  has  seemed  a  worthy  one.  Else,  if  the  end 
have  not  so  seemed,  if  they  have  undergone  suffering  for 
ends  which  they  themselves  recognized  to  be  frivolous,  we 
shall  certainly  not  call  them  heroes  ;  on  the  contrary  we 
shall  call  them  fools  and  madmen.  If  a  Christian  were  to 
be  crucified  that  he  might  turn  the  world  from  vice  to  virtue, 
he  might  well  be  called  a  hero,  or  something  yet  higher ;  if 
he  were  to  be  crucified  that  the  world  might  prefer  dry 
champagne  to  sweet,  he  might  well  be  called  a  fool,  or  any- 
thing lower.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  all  this  groaning,  this 
agony,  this  sacrifice  of  ourselves  for  others,  depends  for  its 
value  on  the  results  it  is  designed  to  compass.  No  unbe- 
liever would  pretend  that  agony  was  good  for  itself,  that 
groaning  was  good  for  itself,  or  that  heroism  without  an  ob- 
ject was  heroism  at  all.  It  is  on  the  object  that  the  whole 
matter  depends.  Granted  that  the  object  is  good,  the  paths 
that  lead  to  it  are  of  course  good  also ;  and  the  harder  and 
more  rugged  they  are,  the  more  shall  we  admire  those  who 
traverse  them,  and  who  assist  others  to  traverse  them. 
About  this  there  is  no  question.  What  do  these  paths  lead 
to  ?  That  is  the  only  point  there  can  be  any  serious  dispute 
about.     And  I  here  take  occasion  to  protest,  with  all  the 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  307 

emphasis  I  may,  against  a  certain  practice  of  our  unbelieving 
moralists  which,  if  its  deceit  were  not  evidentally  uninten- 
tional, and  if  they  themselves  were  not  the  first  victims  of  it, 
would  demand  the  hardest  epithet  that  the  moral  vocabulary 
can  supply.  They  always  speak,  they  apparently  always  con- 
trive to  think,  of  this  self-abnegating  heroism,  to  which  they 
give  such  prominence,  as  a  virtue  that  is  something  new  and 
peculiar  to  their  own  systems  ;  that  it  is  cherished  by  unbe- 
lief, and  that  religion  stunts  it.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  an 
assumption  more  utterly  untrue  than  this,  and  not  only  more 
untrue,  but  more  groundless.  Indeed  it  can  only  have  im- 
posed on  any  one  by  its  inconceivable  audacity.  Heroism 
and  self-abnegation,  as  a  moment's  unruffled  thought  will 
show  us,  are  parts  of  religious  morality  just  as  much  as  of 
atheistic.  It  is  about  the  object  only  of  the  heroism  that  the 
two  systems  differ.  Both  have  for  their  end  true  human  wel- 
fare, the  truest  human  happiness  ;  but  the  one  connects  such 
happiness  with  something  beyond  this  life — with  something 
higher,  purer,  and  more  complete ;  the  other  explicitly 
bounds  it  by  this  life,  which  contains,  it  teaches,  all  the  ele- 
vation, purity,  and  completeness  of  which  the  loftiest  human 
nature  is  capable.  Here  is  the  only  difference.  George 
Eliot  says,  "  I  desire  to  be  immortal  in  the  beneficial  effects 
of  my  life ;  I  desire  to  live  on  in  the  higher  lives  of  others." 
Well  and  good  ;  so  she  may  desire  it.  But  the  desire  is  not 
peculiar  to  those  who  desire  nothing  more  than  this.  The 
believer  has  just  the  same  desire.  He  would  just  as  gladly 
spend  and  be  spent  for  humanity.  He  only  connects  hu- 
manity with  something  better  than  itself,  and  so  makes  it 


3o8  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

better  worth  his  being  spent  for.  Let  us  then,  for  the  present 
at  least,  quite  put  out  of  our  heads  all  these  providing,  these 
provisional  virtues,  these  virtues  not  self-luminous,  not  self- 
justified,  which  are  common  to  both  systems.  There  need  be 
no  discussion  where  there  is  no  disagreement.  Let  us  con- 
sider only  the  self-justified  object  which  the  unbelievers  give 
their  virtues,  and  from  which  alone  they  gain  their  virtuous 
character.  For  here  it  is  that  the  heart  of  the  difference  lies. 
And  what  on  this  point  does  George  Eliot  tell  us  ?  What  is 
all  her  heroism,  all  her  self-devotion  to  conduce  to  ?  To 
making  men  better,  to  making  undying  music  and  beauteous 
order  in  the  world,  to  diffusing  sweet  purity,  and  smiles  that 
have  no  cruelty  in  them.  Here  we  come  to  the  point.  This 
is  the  thing  we  want  to  know.  We  want  to  know  what  is  the 
precious  thing  we  are  to  strive  for,  not  to  be  told  again  and 
again  that  we  must  heroically  strive  for  something  precious. 
The  foundation,  then,  of  the  unbeliever's  ethics  is  not  the 
fact  that  heroism  is  good,  and  that  self-sacrifice  is  good,  but 
that  kind  smiles  are,  and  sweet  purity  is,  and  the  world's 
better  self  is. 

Such  is  George  Eliot's  answer ;  and  such,  in  substance,  is 
the  answer  of  all  her  school  of  moralists.  But  this  is  not 
enough.  This  sort  of  answer  practically  is  absolutely  value- 
less. We  have  here  a  lot  of  fine  phrases.  But  what  do  these 
fine  phrases  mean  ?  They  may  mean  anything,  or  they  may 
mean  nothing.  They  name  a  something,  it  is  true  ;  but,  in 
the  act  of  naming  it,  they  shroud  it  in  a  vapor  of  praise. 
We  want  this  vapor  cleared  away.  We  wish  to  see  the 
praised  something  plainly.      We    want    to    know    in  detail 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  309 

what  the  phrases  mean.  We  want  them  translated  into 
terms  of  life  and  action.  For  it  is  according  to  the  value 
of  the  exact  meaning  of  them  that  the  system  they  belong 
to  stands  or  falls.  We  know  what  self-sacrifice  and  unsel- 
fishness mean  well  enough.  In  the  world's  "better  self"  we 
find  no  meaning  but  what  we  bring.  "  Beauteous  order  "  is 
of  course  "beauteous."  But  we  do  not  want  it  to  be  thus 
named  by  others ;  we  want  to  be  shown  it,  so- that  we  may  be 
forced  so  to  name  it  ourselves.  Whilst  as  to  "undying 
music,"  we  want  to  hear  it  first  before  we  know  whether 
its  continuance  would  be  a  blessing  or  a  torture.  And  here 
in  passing  we  may  notice  another  hallucination  of  our  moral- 
ists. They  seem  to  think  that  the  excellence  of  their  end 
is  guaranteed  and  heightened  by  the  trouble  which,  they 
tell  us,  must  be  taken  to  arrive  at  it.  They  forget  that 
music  fit  for  an  orgy  may  be  just  as  hard  to  play  as  music  fit 
for  the  Mass.  The  musician  may  have  to  struggle,  groan,  and 
agdnize  as  much  in  one  case  as  in  the  other.  At  present  the 
unbeliever's  system  of  morality  is  like  a  rugged  Ararat,  which 
we  are  bidden  climb  and  help  others  to  climb,  for  the  sake  of 
an  Ark  that  is  said  to  rest  on  the  peaks  of  it.  But  the  peaks 
are  hidden  by  clouds,  the  ark  can  be  seen  by  none  below ; 
and  those  who  profess  to  have  reached  it,  can  give  no  distinct 
account  of  the  treasures  they  profess  to  have  found  in  it.  Why 
should  men  then  not  remain  on  the  level  plains,  and  live  at 
will  there  quietly  with  the  flocks  and  herds,  if  there  is  nothing 
to  assure  them  but  a  vague  bewildered  rumor  that  they  will 
gain  anything  better  by  the  pains  and  perils  of  mountaineer- 
ing? 


3 1  o  Q  UESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Once  again  let  me  repeat  it  is  the  ultimate  end  of  action 
we  want  to  know  about,  which  is  quite  distinct  from  our  pain- 
ful efforts  to  secure  it.  What  is  this  precious  something,  this 
peculiar  kind  of  happiness,  that  we  ought  to  live  for  ?  What 
is  it  that  we  gain  by  virtue  and  seriousness,  and  lose  by  vice 
and  frivolity  ?  It  must  be  something,  and  it  must  be  some- 
thing definite.  Else  why  is  the  moralist  pleased  with  the 
serious,  and  why  is  he  angry  with  the  frivolous  ?  He  can  only 
tell  us  why,  by  presenting  to  us  this  end  of  action ;  and  by 
presenting  it  to  us  in  such  a  way  that  we  see  it  to  be  its  own 
justification,  that  we  realize  it  to  be  attainable,  and  that  we 
feel  it  to  be  attractive. 

I  am  quite  aware  that  it  is  easy  to  state  these  things  on 
paper,  and  to  win  from  the  reader  a  certain  kind  of  assent  to 
them ;  but  that  it  is  quite  a  different  matter,  and  often  a  very 
difficult  one,  to  produce  a  really  fruitful,  a  really  living  con- 
viction. I  will  therefore  adduce  a  very  singular  example  to 
prove  that  what  I  have  been  saying  about  atheistic  ethics  is 
the  simple  sober  truth — true  not  only  on  paper,  but  in  actual 
life  and  practice.  And  I  shall  take  the  example  from  the 
confessions  of  one  of  the  atheists  themselves  ;  one  of  the  most 
distinguished,  the  most  earnest,  the  most  influential  among 
their  number :  he  shall  be  my  witness. 

"From  the  winter  of  182 1,"  writes  John  Stuart  Mill  in  his 
Autobiography,  "when  I  first  read  Bentham  ...  I  had  what 
might  truly  be  called  an  object  in  life  ;  to  be  a  reformer  of 
the  world.  ...  I  endeavored  to  pick  up  as  many  flowers  as 
I  could  by  the  way ;  but  as  a  serious  and  permanent  personal 
satisfaction  to  rest  upon,  my  whole  reliance  was  placed  on 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  311 

this  ....  But  the  time  came  when  I  awakened  from  this  as 
from  a  dream.  ...  It  occurred  to  me  to  put  the  question 
directly  to  myself :  *  Suppose  that  all  your  objects  in  life 
were  realized  ;  that  all  the  changes  in  institutions  and  opin- 
ions which  you  are  looking  forward  to,  could  be  completely 
effected  at  this  very  instant,  would  this  be  a  great  joy  and 
happiness  to  you  ? '  And  an  irrepressible  self-consciousness 
distinctly  answered  '  No  ! '  At  this  my  heart  sank  within 
me  J  the  whole  foundation  on  which  my  life  was  constructed 
fell  down.  .  .  .  The  end  had  ceased  to  charm,  and  how  could 
there  ever  again  be  any  interest  in  the  means?  I  seemed  to 
have  nothing  left  to  live  for.  .  .  .  The  lines  in  Coleridge's 
Dejection  .  .  .  exactly  describe  my  case  : 

" '  A  grief  without  a  pang,  void,  dark,  and  drear, 
A  drowsy,  stifled,  unimpassioned  grief, 
Which  finds  no  natural  outlet  or  relief 
In  word,  or  sigh,  or  tear. 


Work,  without  hope,  draws  nectar  in  a  sieve, 
And  life  without  an  object  cannot  live.' " 

And  the  teaching  of  this  account  is  pointed  by  the  following 
comment  on  it :  '  Though  my  dejection,  honestly  looked  at, 
could  not  be  called  other  than  egotistical,  produced  by  the 
ruin,  as  I  thought,  of  my  fabric  of  happiness,  yet  the  destiny 
of  mankind  in  general  was  ever  in  my  thoughts,  and  could 
not  be  separated  from  my  own.  I  felt  that  the  flaw  in  my  life 
must  be  a  flaw  in  life  itself;  and  that  the  question  was  whether  if 
the  reformers  of  society  and  government  could  succeed  in  their 
objects,  and  every  person  in  the  community  were  free,  and  in  a 
state  of  physical  comfort^  the  pleasures  of  life,  being  no  longer  kept 


3 1 2  QUESTIONS  OF  BEL TEF. 

up  by  struggle  and  privation^  would  cease  to  he  pleasures.  And 
I  felt  that  unless  I  could  see  some  better  hope  than  this  for 
human  happiness  in  general,  my  dejection  must  continue." 

Surely  this  passage  must  speak  for  itself.  It  can  need 
but  little  comment.  Here  is  the  truth  of  all  that  I  have  been 
saying,  confessed  by  one  of  the  unbelievers  themselves ;  and 
confessed  not  as  an  abstract,  not  as  a  theoretical  truth,  but  as 
a  truth  whose  full  bitterness  he  has  himself  felt.  He  has  ac- 
knowledged it  by  months  of  misery,  by  intermittent  thoughts 
of  suicide,  by  years  of  recurring  melancholy.  Some  ultimate 
end  of  action  some  kind  of  satisfying  happiness — this,  and  this 
alone,  can  give  any  meaning  to  work,  or  make  possible  any 
kind  of  virtue.  Without  this  we  must  be  content  to  live  as 
the  beasts,  or  we  can  never  be  content  to  live  at  all.  All  this 
Mill  distinctly  acknowledges.  What  is  the  end — the  last  end 
of  action  ?  That  is  the  vital  question.  Any  answer  that  stops 
short  of  this  will  be  but  postponing  the  difficulty,  not  meeting 
it ;  and  will  leave  us  in  no  better  condition  than  that  of  the 
Eastern  cosmogonists,  who  first  explained  the  earth's  stability 
by  saying  that  it  rested  on  an  elephant ;  and  being  asked  on 
what  the  elephant  rested,  answered,  on  a  tortoise. 

Mill,  however,  though  he  fully  felt  the  difficulty  in  ques- 
tion, did  not  long  succumb  to  it.  He  was  determined  that 
he  would  conquer  it,  and  he  at  last  persuaded  himself  that  he 
had  done  so.  He  contrived  to  make  life  again  bearable,  and 
to  convince  himself  that  it  contained  something  worthy  of  his 
self-devotion.  It  will  be  instructive  to  see  how  he  does  this, 
as  a  further  light  will  be  thus  thrown  on  those  subtle  decep- 
tions which  the  unbelievers  practice  on  themselves,  and  their 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  313 

contrivances  for  veiling  that  question  wliose  naked  face  they 
seem  even  afraid  to  look  at.  The  process,  then,  of  Mill's 
moral  convalescence,  as  he  himself  understood  it,  took  the 
form  of  two  new  discoveries.  In  the  first  place,  he  tells  us, 
that  though  he  never  "  wavered  in  the  conviction  that  happi- 
ness is  the  test  of  all  rules  of  conduct,  and  the  end  of  life," 
he  now  thought  that  this  end  was  only  to  be  attained  by  not 
making  it  the  direct  end.  "  Those  only  are  happy  .  .  .  who 
have  their  minds  fixed  on  some  object  other  than  their  own 
happiness ;  on  the  happiness  of  others,  on  the  improvement 
of  mankind  ;  even  on  some  art  or  pursuit,  followed  not  as  a 
means,  but  as  itself  an  ideal  end."  Now  what  does  Mill  gain 
by  this  ?  Is  he  meeting  the  difficulty  ?  Not  in  the  slightest ; 
he  is  simply  wriggling  out  of  it.  For  firstly,  as  to  any  "art 
or  pursuit,  followed  not  as  a  means,  but  as  itself  an  ideal 
end,"  if  happiness  is  the  test  of  all  rules  of  conduct,  the  fol- 
lowing of  these  arts  or  pursuits  can  only  be  justified  because 
they  promote  happiness.  Every  path  in  the  ethical  labyrinth 
leads  back  to  that.  Nor,  next,  is  any  difficulty  overcome  by 
bidding  us  follow  the  happiness  of  others  instead  of  our  own. 
For  the  question  still  remains  unsettled,  what  kind  of  happi- 
ness for  others  is  it,  that  it  will  be  worth  our  while  to  promote  ? 
We  are  merely  thus  removing  the  matter  to  a  little  distance,  in 
the  hopes  of  gaining  a  clearer  view  of  it.  But  that  no  clearer 
view  of  it  can  ever  be  got  this  way,  the  following  pithy  passage 
out  of  More's  Utopia  is  sufficient  to  remind  us  ;  "  For  a  joyful 
life,  that  is  to  say  a  pleasant  life,  is  either  evil ;  and  if  so,  then 
thou  shouldest  not  only  help  no  man  thereto,  but  rather  as  much 
as  in  thee  lieth  withdraw  all  men  from  it,  as  noisome  and  hurt- 


314  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

ful  j  or  else  if  thou  not  only  mayest,  but  also  of  duty  art  bound 
to  procure  it  for  others,  why  not  chiefly  for  thyself?  to  whom 
thou  art  bound  to  show  as  much  favour  and  gentleness  as  to 
others."  And  Mill  with  a  curious  inconsistency  seems  to 
have  admitted  and  felt  that  this  was  really  true.  For  no 
sooner  had  he  come  to  the  conclusion  we  have  been  just  con- 
sidering, that  men  should  not  seek  their  own  happiness,  than 
he  went  on  to  inquire,  with  the  utmost  anxiety,  in  what 
this  happiness  consisted.  He  took  some  time  in  discover- 
ing this,  and  was  at  first  not  a  little  perplexed  about  it.  But 
at  length  light  broke  upon  him  ;  the  discovery  at  length  was 
made.  And  what,  according  to  his  own  account,  was  it  ? 
The  "  perennial  "  happiness,  for  which  men  are  to  live,  which 
is  to  make  life  desirable  "  when  all  the  greater  evils  .... 
shall  have  been  removed,"  consists,  he  tells  us,  "  in  states  of 
feeling,  and  of  thought  coloured  by  feeling,  under  the  excite- 
ment of  beauty."  This  is  the  only  description,  the  most  ac- 
curate and  complete  description,  he  can  give  us  of  the  one 
thing  by  which  all  conduct  is  to  be  tested,  and  the  hope  of  at- 
taining which  is  alone  to  make  life  liveable.  Mill  is  as  vague 
as  George  Eliot.  His  answer  is  just  as  worthless.  If  some 
special  kind  of  happiness  is  the  one  thing  we  are  to  work  for, 
we  must  know  so  exactly  what  this  happiness  is,  that  we  can, 
without  error,  distinguish  it  from  all  other  kinds.  It  must  be 
such,  too,  that  we  shall  be  prepared  to  admit  that  all  acts 
will  be  moral  that  conduce  to  it ;  and  that  no  act  will  be  im- 
moral that  does  not  keep  ourselves  or  others  from  the  posses- 
sion of  it.  Now  are  "  states  of  feeling,  or  thought  coloured 
by  feeling,  under  the  excitement  of  beauty,"  an  end  so  def- 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  f  315 

inite  that  any  man  can  work  for  it  ?  Or  could  they  form  a 
test,  even  were  they  so,  by  which  we  could  condemn  any 
gratification,  however  base  or  abnormal,  which  we  might 
passionately  and  persistently  long  for?  Or  granting  even 
that  such  longings  did  stand  condemned  as  distracting  us  on 
our  course,  should  not  we  in  this  case  best  conquer  tempta- 
tion by  yielding  to  it?  Mill,  it  is  true,  thought  this  vague 
happiness  definite  enough,  and  attractive  enough.  But  then, 
let  us  remember,  he  was  determined  to  do  so.  He  was  an 
ethical  Don  Quixote  in  search  of  a  mistress  ;  and  we  should 
find  probably,  could  only  this  Dulcinea  be  identified,  that 
her  charms  existed  nowhere  but  in  the  imagination  of  her 
knight. 

Here,  then,  is  a  fact  which  is  surely  not  without  signifi- 
cance j  here  is  a  lesson  which  he  that  runs  may  read,  and 
which  ma)'  well  give  pause  to  our  voluble  modern  teachers. 
Mill's  experience  should  at  once  show  us  that  the  very  possi- 
bility of  an  atheistic  morality  is  at  least  not  self-evident;  that 
even  the  earnest  and  benevolent,  who  long  to  give  life  a  seri- 
ous meaning,  are  bewildered  when  they  try  to  discover  any 
source  for  its  seriousness ;  nay,  that  bounded  as  our  teachers 
bound  it  by  itself,  the  chances  are  that  all  ere  long  will  grow 
to  acknowledge  its  vanity. 

What !  it  will  be  asked,  and  do  they  all  go  for  nothing,  the 
utterances  of  our  eminent  teachers  ?  Our  modern  atheistic 
moralists  have  been  men  of  blameless  life,  of  set  and  solemn 
purpose,  of  subtle  and  of  powerful  intellects.  They  have 
worked,  and  thought,  and  written.  They  have  won  the  ear 
of  the  world.     All  these  men  tell  us  confidently  that  life  is  ■ 


3i6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

serious.  And  shall  not  their  confidence  be  some  assurance 
to  us  ?  In  this  matter  of  opinion  is  not  these  men's  author- 
ity of  the  greatest  weight  ? 

I  answer,  No ;  and  for  a  reason  that  we  shall  do  well  to 
consider. 

Nearly  all  our  great  modern  unbelievers,  the  men  on  whose 
speculations  and  discoveries  unbelief  in  our  days  has  based 
itself,  have  been  men  of  letters,  of  research,  or  of  science. 
They  have  won  their  eminence  in  the  study,  or  the  laboratory, 
or  the  dissecting  room ;  and  they  have  there  come  to  conclu- 
sions which  they  proclaim  loudly  to  the  world  as  fatal  to  all 
religion.  But  the  knowledge  which  has  qualified  them  to 
destroy  religion,  has  no  bearing  whatever  on  the  knowledge 
that  will  qualify  them  to  replace  it.  They  have  taken  away 
the  happiness  of  heaven.  They  replace  it  by  the  happiness 
of  earth.  But  if  heavenly  happiness  be  a  myth,  may  not 
earthly  happiness  be  a  myth  also  ?  No  eminence  gained  in 
the  laboratory  or  the  study  will  make  a  man  an  authority  upon 
this  question.  If  he  be  an  authority  upon  it  at  all,  he  will 
have  acquired  his  qualifications  in  very  different  places  ;  and 
he  will  have  acquired  them  not  in  virtue  of  his  success  as  a 
specialist,  but  in  spite  of  it.  Would  we  judge  about  the 
happiness  that  life  can  yield,  life  is  the  one  thing  we  have  to 
.  study.  We  must  study  men  and  women  as  they  are  around 
us,  and  the  varied  impulses  under  which  they  act.  Now  not 
only  will  lonely  thought  and  study  necessitate  in  general  a 
certain  withdrawal  from  life,  and  a  consequent  ignorance  of 
it ;  but  devotion  to  any  special  pursuit,  that  is  possible  only 
for  the  few,  will  tend  to  distort  the  judgment,  and  will  lead  a 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  317 

man  to  put  the  personal  motive  of-  his  own  career  in  place  of 
the  ultimate  and  general  justification.  Such  men,  indeed, 
live  surrounded  by  idola  specHs.  Interests  which  absorb  them 
and  give  their  lives  a  meaning,  they  imagine  will  affect  the 
world  at  large  in  a  like  way  ;  unconscious  that  the  world  at 
large  has  other  interests  which  they  know  of  but  by  empty 
names ;  that  it  is  allured  by  pleasures,  and  that  it  has  to 
battle  with  passions,  to  which  education  and  temperament 
have  alike  made  them  strangers.  There  is  indeed  something 
grotesque  in  the  notion  of  a  savant  emerging  from  an 
examination  of  a  beetle's  wing,  or  a  speculation  upon  parallel 
lines,  before  men  and  women  of  the  world,  flushed  or  em- 
bittered with  the  joys,  the  passions,  or  the  pains  of  life,  led 
by  the  bright  or  dark  allurements  of  ambition,  or  of  vanity,  or 
of  love,  to  instruct  them  on  the  strongest  motives  to  action,  and 
the  real  secret  of  making  the  most  of  this  life.  Men  of  science 
for  instance,  talk  continually  about  moral  matters  as  though 
scientific  research  were  the  great  thing  to  live  for.  But  wheii 
they  talk  like  this,  it  is  plain  they  cannot  know  what  they  are 
saying.  It  would  be  attributing  a  too  unworldly  simplicity  to 
them,  to  fancy  that  they  supposed  really  that  the  mass  of  men 
would  ever  follow  science  for  its  own  sake,  or  that  even  could 
they,  they  would  ever  wish  to  do  so.  Nor,  granting  even  that 
this  were  possible,  can  we  imagine  any  one  bold  and  blind  ' 
enough  to  accept  the  conclusion  that  would  inevitably  follow. 
For  if  scientific  research  be  the  true  end  of  life,  and  the  test 
of  conduct,  nothing  can  then  be  immoral  that  does  not  inter- 
fere with  scientific  research.  It  is  hard  to  see  what  fabric  of 
ethics  could  be  reared  upon  this  foundation  :  it  is  hard  to 


^i8  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

conceive  that  the  world  in  general  could  desire  to  raise  any. 
And  the  end  of  action  which  we  demand,  is  an  end  of 
action  for  the  world  in  general.  It  must  be  that,  or  it  can  be 
nothing.  It  must  be  an  end  that  will  attract  equally  the 
politician  and  the  professor ;  the  fashionable  femme  incom- 
prise  famishing  for  some  mad  distraction ;  and  the  shy  pro- 
found student,  as  incapable  of  understanding  passion  as  he  is 
of  inspiring  it.  It  must  be  an  end  that  will  inspire  the 
passionless  and  restrain  the  passionate.  It  must,  when  we 
are  once  within  the  sphere  of  its  attraction,  be  the  strongest 
magnet  of  our  lives,  of  power  to  counteract  the  force  of  all 
our  selfish  instincts,  and  of  all  the  fierce  desires  which  many 
of  the  holiest  men  have  hardly  resisted,  and  to  which  most  of 
the  world's  greatest  men  have  notoriously  yielded. 

That  such  an  end  as  this  is  possible  for  the  world  in 
general,  those  only  who  know  the  world  can  be  in  a  position 
to  say.  The  religious  moralist  might  well  be  a  recluse,  for 
the  source  of  his  morality  was  essentially  without  this  life. 
The  atheistic  moralist  must  emphatically  be  a  man  of  the 
world  ;  for  the  source  of  his  morality  is  essentially  within  it. 
He  must,  indeed,  enter  into  the  pursuits  of  men,  with  the 
same  diligence  as  that  with  which  the  other  avoided  them. 
A  knowledge  attained  thus  is  an  absolute  necessity  for  him. 
That  he  may  be  qualified  to  deny  the  necessity  of  a  first 
cause,  will  not  qualify  him  to  assert  the  possibility  of  human 
happiness,  or  to  understand  its  nature.  And  in  refusing  to 
believe  in  this  matter  any  mere  thinkers  or  discoverers,  how- 
ever morally  good,  or  however  intellectually  eminent,  we  are 
refusing  them  none  of   that  deference  which  they  may   so 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  31c) 

justly  claim.  Frederick  the  Great  we  may  think  contemptible 
as  a  poet ;  but  we  do  not  for  that  reason  think  him  the  less 
extraordinary  as  a  man  of  action. 

•  And  I  now  come  to  the  last  point  that  I  have  here 
to  notice;  a  point  which  is  really  the  source  of  the  whole 
confusion.  Our  atheistic  moralists  do,  as  we  have  seen, 
name  certain  things  in  life,  which  when  looked  at  from 
a  distance,  and  not  examined  too  closely,  have  for  many 
the  appearance  of  adequate  moral  ends.  But  there  is  this 
great  fact  to  be  remembered.  Our  moralists,  when  they 
deal  with  life,  profess  to  exhibit  its  resources  to  us  wholly 
free  from  the  false  aids  of  religion.  They  profess,  if  I 
may  coin  a  word,  to  have  de-religionized  it,  before  they  deal 
with  it.  About  this  matter,  however,  they  betray  a  most 
strange  ignorance.  They  seem  to  think  that  religion 
exists  nowhere  except  in  its  pure  form,  in  the  form  of 
distinct  devotional  feeling,  or  in  the  conscious  assents  of  faith. 
These  once  got  rid  of,  they  think  that  life  is  de-religionizcd. 
The  process,  however,  is  really  only  begun  ;  indeed,  as  far  as 
immediate  results  go,  it  is  hardly  even  begun.  For  it  is  really 
but  a  very  small  proportion  of  religion  that  exists  pure.  The 
greater  part  of  it  has  entered  into  combination  with  the  com- 
mon acts  and  feelings  of  life,  thus  forming,  as  it  were,  a  kind 
of  amalgam  with  them,  giving  them  new  properties,  anew  color, 
a  new  consistence.  To  de-religioJtize\\ie,  then,  it  is  not  enough 
to  condemn  creeds,  and  to  abolish  prayers.  We  must  also  sub- 
limate the  beliefs  and  feelings,  which  prayers  and  creeds  hold 
pure,  out  of  the  lay  life  around  us.  Under  this  process,  even 
if  imperfectly  performed,  it  will  soon  become  clear  that  religion 


220.  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

in  greater  or  less  proportions  is  lurking  everywhere.  We 
shall  see  it  yielded  up  even  by  things  in  which  we  should  least 
look  for  it — ^by  wit,  by  humor,  by  secular  ambition,  by  our 
daily  light  amusements  ;  and  as  it  leaves  them,  their  whole 
aspect  will  change.  Much  more  shall  we  see  it  yielded  up  by 
heroism,  by  purity,  and  by  love  of  truth — by  all  those  great 
things  which  our  Atheists  name  with  praise.  Professor  Tyn- 
dall  calls  theologians  "  Jacobs,"  who  "  have  deprived  matter 
of  its  birthright."  He  had  best  beware  lest  he  and  his  fel- 
lows be  found  out  to  be  Rachels,  who  have  run  away  with  the 
gods  of  theology,  and,  sitting  on  them  in  their  tents,  have 
quite  forgotten  the  theft.  Life  at  any  rate  must  be  searched 
and  purified  of  the  faiths  we  are  relinquishing,  as  none  of  our 
atheists  have  yet  searched  it.  Then,  but  not  till  then,  shall 
we  be  able  to  estimate  its  resources,  when  bounded  by  itself, 
and  cut  off  from  every  hope  beyond  ;  when  all  its  ports,  so  to 
speak,  are  blockaded,  so  that  no  treasure  can  be  smuggled 
into  them  from  any  foreign  country.  Then,  and  not  till  then, 
shall  we  be  in  any  way  fit  to  judge  as  to  whether  it  contains 
materials  for  any  kind  of  happiness  which  can  give  it  a  serious 
and  universal  meaning,  and  make  any  system  of  morality 
possible. 

Here  is  the  real  matter  at  stake.  Here  is  the  real  issue 
that  is  trembling  in  the  balance.  Here  is  the  real  ques- 
tion about  which  we  pride  ourselves  upon  being  tolerant, 
or,  in  other  words,  about  being  calm  and  quite  indifferent. 
For  unless,  let  our  Atheists  remember,  we  can  find  such  an 
end  in  life  as  that  which  we  have  been  demanding ;  unless 
we  can  find  some  supreme,  some  universal,  some  attainable 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  321 

end  to  strive  for  whose  beauty  shall  outshine  passion,  and 
withstand  the  dissolving  force  of  reason,  that  shall  be  for 
ever  urging  us  onward  like  a  steady  pilot  star,  and  for  ever 
urging  us  onward  like  a  favorable  wind,  we  shall  be  like  dis- 
masted ships,  without  sail  and  without  rudder,  left  to  welter 
on  a  sluggish  sea  of  small  and  weary  impulses,  with  no  escape 
from  the  shoreless  accursed  surface,  till  at  last,  and  one 
by  one,  we  sink  forever  under  it. 


II. 


1  AM  writing  for  practical  people ;  I  am  dealing  with  prac- 
tical matters.  When  I  speak  of  life,  and  of  the  worth  of  it,  I 
am  referring  to  common  things,  to  things  of  daily  experience. 
I  am  referring  to  the  joys,  the  sorrows,  and  the  occupations 
that  give  their  quick  color  to  the  hours ;  and  to  the  loves, 
the  ambitions,  and  the  interests,  that  slowly  give  their  color 
to  the  years.  These  are  the  things  that  surround  all  of  us. 
We  cannot  escape  from  them.  In  them  we  live  and  move  and 
have  our  being ;  and  all  science  and  wisdom,  and  all  the  pur- 
suits of  intellect,  must  either  culminate  in  teaching  us  how  to 
deal  with  these,  or  else  must  humbly  take  their  place  amongst 
them.  Be  we  men  of  thought  or  action,  be  we  saints  or  liber- 
tines, we  have  each  of  us  a  daily  course  to  shape  through  a 
throng  of  conflicting  impulses.  And  unless  we  are  to  be  the 
passive  prey  of  these,  some  plain  principles  must  be  ours  to 
guide  us.  Now,  hitherto,  such  a  set  of  principles  we  have 
had,  all  of  us.  They  were  readily  understood  ;  they  were 
readily  applied.     Amongst  the  choices  and  refusals  that  beset 

21 


322  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

US  momently,  they  left  us  little  in  doubt  as  to  the  right  course  ; 
and  if  we  refused  to  take  it,  we  refused  with  our  eyes  open.  But 
times  are  changed.  The  old  principles,  we  are  told,  are  obso- 
lete ;  they  are  no  longer  of  the  least  use  to  us.  Principles, 
•we  are  told  loudly,  we  need  just  as  much  as  ever ;  but  we  arc 
offered  a  new  set  of  them.  Now  it  is  plain  that  the  new  set 
will  be  useless,  unless  it  can  take  the  place  of  the  old.  The 
difficulties  we  want  help  in,  remain  just  the  same ;  they  are 
just  as  definite  as  ever.  We  shall  want  our  new  rules  of  life 
to  be  just  as  definite  as  our  old. 

Here  comes  a  pressing  and  practical  question.  Are  they 
so  ?  or  can  they  ever  be  made  so  ?  Vaguely  stated  they  may 
sound  well  enough.  But  vaguely  stated,  they  are  practically 
useless.  Let  our  modern  moralists  give  them  some  definite 
meaning.  Let  them  show  us  some  particular  rules  deduced 
from  their  general  principles.  We  have  heard  their  princi- 
ples often  enough.  What  I  am  now  to  consider  is  the  de- 
tailed application  of  them.  We  want  no  more  vague  mes- 
sages sent  to  us  out  of  the  study  or  the  laboratory,  about  the 
nature  of  right  and  wrong.  Let  the  senders  themselves  come 
out  to  us,  and  illustrate  their  meaning  by  examples  in  the 
world  at  large.  Let  us  confront  them  with  men  and  women 
as  they  appear  in  action.  Let  us  select  for  them  a  variety  of 
particular  instances.  Consider  this  man,  let  us  say,  or  this 
woman  ;  consider  this  mood  of  mind,  this  pursuit,  this  pleas- 
ure, this  way  of  spending  the  day  or  night.  Put  your  finger 
upon  this  case,  and  on  that  case ;  tell  us  which  is  wrong,  and 
which  is  right ;  and  when  you  condemn  any  voluntary  human 
action,  tell  us  exactly  why  you  condemn  it  from  your  own 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  323 

point  of  view,  and  how  you  would  persuade  the  offender  to 
condemn  it  also  from  his. 

Now  I  have  pointed  out,  in  my  former  paper,  that  all  pos- 
sible answers  to  this  question  are  reducible  to  one  simple 
form.  If  they  have  any  meaning  at  all,  they  must  mean  this 
— an  act,  a  habit  is  wrong  ;  a  pleasure,  a  mood  of  mind  is 
wrong,  because  by  it  we  arc  robbed  of  sometJwig,  or  hin- 
dered in  attaining  to  something,  which  we  can  all  discern,  un- 
less we  close  our  eyes  to  it,  as  the  one  thing  that  is  indeed 
desirable — the  one  thing  that  will  make  us  really  happy. 
And  the  first  task  of  the  moralist  is  to  put  this  something  be- 
fore us. 

That  this  is  at  least  one  way  of  stating  the  case,  has  been 
often  acknowledged  by  our  modern  teachers  themselves.  I 
have  already  quoted  J.  S.  Mill  as  an  instance  ;  and  the  doc- 
trines of  to-day  are  being  couched  perpetually  in  this  very 
form.  Thus  Professor  Huxley  concludes  one  of  his  late  ad- 
dresses by  solemnly  telling  us  that  the  last  end  of  education 
is  to  promote  "  morality  and  refinement,  by  teaching  men  to 
discipline  themselves,  and  by  leading  them  to  see  that  the 
highest,  as  it  is  the  only  content,  is  to  be  attained,  not  by 
grovelling  in  the  rank  and  steaming  valleys  of  sense,  but  by 
continually  striving  towards  those  high  peaks  where,  resting 
in  eternal  calm,  reason  discerns  the  undefined  but  bright 
ideal  of  the  highest  good — *a  cloud  by  day,  a  pillar  of  fire 
by  night'  "  ^  And  these  words  are  an  excellent  specimen  of 
the  moral  exhortations  of  our  new  school  of  teachers. 

Now  this  is  all  very  well  as  far  as  it  goes  ;  and  were  there 

^  Critiques  and  Addresses,  T^.  32. 


324  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

not  one  thing  lacking,  it  would  be  just  the  language  that  the 
occasion  craves.  But  the  one  thing  lacking  is  enough  to 
make  it  valueless.  It  may  mean  a  great  deal.  But  there  is 
no  possibility  of  saying  exactly  what  it  means.  Before  we 
can  begin  to  strive  towards  the  *'  highest  good,"  we  must  at 
least  know  something  of  what  this  "  highest  good  "  is.  We 
must  make  this  "  bright  ideal  "  *'  stand  and  unfold  itself."  If 
it  cannot  be  made  to  do  this,  if  it  vanishes  into  mist  as  we 
near  it,  and  takes  a  different  shape  to  each  of  us  as  we  recede 
from  it  still  more,  if  only  some  can  see  it,  and  to  others  it  is 
quite  invisible — then  we  shall  simply  set  it  down  as  an  illu- 
sion, and  waste  no  more  time  in  pursuit  of  it.  But  that  it  is 
not  an  illusion  is  our  moralists'  great  claim  for  it.  Heaven 
and  the  love  of  God,  they  say,  were  illusions.  The  "  highest 
good  "  they  offer  us  stands  out  in  clear  contradiction  to  these. 
It  is  an  actual  attainable  thing,  a  thing  for  flesh  and-blood 
creatures  ;  it  is  to  be  won  and  enjoyed  by  them  in  their  com- 
mon daily  life.  It  is,  as  they  distinctly  and  unanimously  tell 
us,^  some  form  of  happiness  that  results  in  this  life  to  us  from 
certain  conduct ;  it  is  a  thing  essentially  of  the  present ;  * 
"  and  it  is  obviously,"  says  Professor  Huxley,  "  in  no  way 
affected  by  the  abbreviation  or  prolongation  of  our  con- 
scious life."  This  being  the  case,  then,  it  is  no  unreasonable 
demand  to  ask  for  some  explicit  account  of  it.  When  Pro- 
fessor Huxley  speaks  of  the  highest  happiness,  what  meaning 
does  he  attach  to  the  word  ?  Has  he  ever  enjoyed  it  himself, 
or  does  he  ever  hope  to  do  so  ?  If  so,  when,  where,  and 
how  ?  What  must  be  done  to  get  it,  and  what  must  be  left 
Nineteenth  Century,  No.  3,  p.  536.  *  Ibid. 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVINGS  325 

undone?  And  when  it  is  got,  what  will  it  be  like?  Is  it 
something  mystical,  rapturous,  and  intermittent,  as  the  lan- 
guage often  used  about  it  might  seem  to  suggest  to  one  ?  Is 
it  known  only  in  brief  moments  of  Neoplatonic  ecstasy,  to 
which  all  the  acts  of  life  should  be  stepping-stones?  It  cer- 
tainly cannot  be  that.  Our  modern  moralists  are  essentially 
no  mystics,  and  their  highest  happiness  must  be  something 
far  more  solid  than  transcendental  ecstasies.  Surely,  there- 
fore, if  it  exists  at  all,  we  must  somewhere  be  able  to  lay  our 
hands  upon  it.  It  is  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night ;  it  will  be  sure- 
ly visible.  It  is  a  city  set  on  a  hill,  that  cannot  be  hid.  It 
is  to  be  lifted  up,  and  is  to  draw  all  men  unto  it.  It  is 
nothing  if  not  this ;  and  if,  after  a  careful  search,  we  fail  to 
find  it,  there  will  be  nothing  left  us  but  to  conclude  that  it  is 
nothing,  or  that,  at  any  rate,  this  life  does  not  contain  it.  If 
we  are  still  resolved  to  find  it,  we  must  seek  elsewhere  for  it. 
We  must  once  again  have  recourse  to  religion,  and  import  it 
into  the  natural  order  from  a  supernatural  order  that  we 
postulate. 

I  have  stated,  as  plainly  as  I  can,  the  question  I  want 
answered.  I  shall  now  go  on  to  point  out  how  utterly  unsat- 
isfactory are  the  answers  that  have  hitherto  been  given  to  it. 
These  answers  divide  themselves  into  two  classes,  which, 
though  continually  confused  by  confused  thinkers,  are  really 
quite  distinct  and  separable.  And  what  I  must  first  do  is  to 
show  that  one  of  these  classes  consists  of  what  are  really  no 
answers  at  all,  and  that  we  must  put  them  altogether  aside 
before  we  can  consider  the  matter  clearly. 

Professor  Huxley  shall  give  us  an  example  of  both.     He 


326  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

is  going  to  tell  us,  let  us  remember,  about  the  "  highest  good" 
— the  happiness,  in  other  words,  that  is  the  secret  of  our  life's 
worth,  and  the  test  of  all  our  conduct.  This  happiness  he 
divides  into  two  kinds.  He  says  there  are  two  things  that  we 
may  mean  when  we  speak  about  it.^  We  may  mean  the 
happiness  of  a  society  of  men,  or  we  may  mean  the  hap- 
piness of  the  members  of  that  society.  And  when  we  speak 
of  morality,  we  may  mean  two  things  also ;  and  these  two 
things  must  be  kept  distinct.  We  may  mean  "  social  moral- 
ity," of  which  the  test  and  object  is  the  happiness  of  societies. 
We  may  mean  "  personal  morality,"  of  which  the  test  and  ob- 
ject is  the  happiness  of  individuals.  And  the  answers  which 
our  modern  moralists  make  us,  I  divide  into  two  classes,  ac- 
cording to  the  sort  of  happiness  they  refer  to.  It  is  before 
all  things  important  that  this  division  should  be  made,  and  be 
kept  quite  clear  in  our  minds,  if  we  would  see  honestly  what 
our  modern  moral  systems  amount  to.  For  what  makes 
them  at  present  so  difficult  to  deal  with  is  the  fact  that  their 
exponents  are  perpetually  perplexing  themselves  between  these 
two  sets  of  answers,  first  giving  one  and  then  the  other,  and 
imagining  that,  by  a  kind  of  confusion  of  substance,  they 
can  both  afford  solutions,  of  the  same  question.  Thus  they 
continually  speak  of  life  as  though  its  crowning  achievement 
were  some  kind  of  personal  happiness  ;  and  then,  being  asked 
to  explain  the  nature  and  basis  of  this,  they  at  once  shift  their 
ground,  and  talk  to  us  of  the  laws  and  the  conditions  of 
social  happiness.  Thus,  Professor  Huxley,  starting  ^  with  the 
thesis  that  both  sorts  of  morality,  personal  and  a  social,  are 
» Nineteenth  Century,  No.  3,  P.S36  2  jbid.^  pp.  536,  537. 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  327 

Strong  enough  to  hold  their  own,  he  conceives  he  has  estabUsh- 
ed  this  by  simply  proving  that  one  is.  "  Given,"  he  says,  "  a 
society  of  human  beings  under  certain  circumstances ;  and  the 
question  whether  a  particular  action  on  the  part  of  one  of  its 
members  will  tend  to  increase  the  general  happiness  or  not,  is  a 
question  of  natural  knowledge,  and  as  such  is  a  perfectly  legit- 
imate subject  of  scientific  inquiry.  ...  If  it  can  be  shown  by 
observation  or  experiment  that  theft,  murder,  and  adultery  do 
not  tend  to  diminish  the  happiness  of  society,  then,  in  the 
absence  of  any  but  natural  knowledge,  they  are  not  social 
immoralities." 

Now  here  is  a  clear  and  complete  epitome  of  one  of  those 
two  classes  of  answers  that  our  modern  moralists  give  us. 
And  what  I  am  going  to  point  out  is,  that  these  answers  are 
really  no  answers  at  all,  and  to  offer  them  to  us  creates  simply 
useless  confusion.  It  is  as  if  we  asked  for  a  fish,  and  were 
offered  a  scorpion.  The  scorpion  might  distract  our  atten- 
tion ;  it  certainly  would  not  satisfy  our  appetite.  The  ques- 
tion we  ask  is,  what  is  the  test  of  conduct  ?  in  other  words, 
what  is  happiness  ?  And  what  are  we  answered  ?  That  hap- 
piness is  the  happiness  of  men — that  it  is  the  general  happi- 
ness— that  it  is  the  happiness  of  men  in  societies — that  it  is 
happiness  equally  distributed.  But  what  does  this  avail  us  ? 
The  word  happiness  is  still  a  locked  casket.  We  know  nothing 
as  yet  of  its  contents.  A  happy  society  neither  does  nor  can 
mean  anything  but  a  number  of  happy  individuals.  Granted 
that  we  know  what  will  make  them  happy,  then  we  shall  know 
what  will  make  society  happy.  Then  social  morality  will  be, 
as  Professor  Huxley  says,  a  perfectly  legitimate  subject  of 


328  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

scientific  inquiry.  Then,  but  not  till  then.  When  we  say  that 
a  society  is  happy  as  a  body,  we  can  only  mean  that  it  secures 
for  its  members  their  happiness  as  individuals.  What  do  the 
individuals  want  ?  We  must  know  that,  before  we  can  try  to 
secure  it  for  them.  But  this  is  what  our  moralists  are  perpet- 
ually losing  sight  of.  The  reason  of  this  confusion  is  not  far 
to  seek.  Observation  and  experiment,  it  is  quite  true,  will 
guide  us  to  certain  clear  and  constant  rules  with  regard  to 
conduct.  They  will  show  us  that  there  are  certain  actions 
which  we  must  never  tolerate,  and  which  we  must  join  together, 
as  best  we  may,  to  suppress.  But  what  sort  of  actions  are 
these  ?  They  are  simply  such  as  disturb  the  negative  con- 
ditions of  all  happiness.  They  touch  neither  the  loss  nor 
gain  of  any  kind  of  happiness  in  particular.  Of  this  class 
are  theft  and  murder.  If  we  are  to  be  happy  in  any  way,  we 
must,  of  course,  have  our  lives  secured  to  us,  and,  next  to  our 
lives,  our  possessions.  But  to  secure  us  these  does  not  secure 
us  happiness.  It  simply  leaves  us  free  to  secure  it,  if  we  can, 
for  ourselves.  Once  let  us  have  some  common  agreement  as 
to  what  this  happiness  is  ;  we  may  then  be  able  to  formulate 
other  rules  and  other  laws,  by  which  we  may  be  helped  in  at- 
taining it.  But,  in  the  absence  of  any  such  agreement,  the 
only  possible  aim  of  social  morality  is  not  to  promote  any 
kind  or  kinds  of  happiness,  but  to  secure  the  conditions  with- 
out which  all  happiness  would  be  impossible.  Suppose  the 
human  race  were  a  set  of  canaries  in  a  cage,  and  that  we  were 
in  grave  doubt  as  to  what  seed  to  give  them — hemp-seed, 
rape-seed,  or  canary-seed,  or  all  three  mixed  in  certain  pro- 
portions.   That  would  represent  accurately  the  present  state 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  329 

of  our  case.  That  is  the  kind  of  question  we  are  now  in 
doubt  about.  Surely  it  is  evident  that  in  this  perplexity  it  is 
absolutely  nothing  to  the  point  to  tell  us  that  the  birds  must  ' 
not  peck  each  other's  eyes  out,  and  that  they  must  all  have 
access  to  the  trough  that  we  are  ignorant  how  to  fill.  The 
real  fault,  then,  of  our  moralists,  that  I  am  now  dealing  with, 
is  this.  They  confuse  the  negative  conditions  of  happiness 
with  the  positive  materials  of  it.  Professor  Huxley,  in  the 
passage  I  have  just  now  quoted,  is  caught,  so  to  speak,  in  the 
very  act  of  committing  it.  "  Theft,  murder,  and  adultery," 
all  these  three,  it  will  be  remembered,  he  classes  together,  and 
seems  to  think  that  they  stand  on  the  same  footing.  But 
from  what  I  have  just  pointed  out,  it  is  plain  that  they  do  not 
do  so.  We  condemn  theft  and  murder  for  one  reason.  We 
condemn  adultery  for  quite  another.  We  condemn  the 
former,  because  they  are  incompatible  with  any  form  of  hap- 
piness. We  condemn  the  latter,  because  it  is  a  supposed  vio- 
lation of  one  particular  form  of  happiness,  or  rather,  perhaps, 
the  substitution  of  a  supposed  lower  kind  for  another  sup- 
posed higher  kind. 

We  may  observe  accordingly,  that  if  happiness  be  the 
moral  test,  what  Professor  Huxley  calls  "  social  morality  " — 
the  rules,  that  is,  for  producing  the  negative  conditions  of 
happiness — are  not  in  themselves  morality  at  all.  They  only 
become  so  when  the  inner  sense  that  we  are  conforming  to 
them  becomes  one  of  the  positive  factors  of  our  own  personal 
happiness.  Then  they  suffer  a  kind  of  apotheosis  ;  they  are 
taken  up  into  ourselves,  and  become  part  and  parcel  of  our 
personal  morality.     But  to  tell  us  simply  that  happiness   is 


330  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

social  happiness  is  to  tell  us  nothing  at  all.  Social  happiness 
is  a  mere  set  of  ciphers  till  the  unit  of  personal  happiness  is 
placed  before  it.  A  man's  happiness  may  of  course  depend 
on  other  beings,  but  it  is  still  none  the  less  contained  in  him- 
self. If  our  greatest  delight  were  to  see  each  other  dance 
the  cancan,  then  it  would  be  morality  for  us  all  to  dance,  that 
we  might  enjoy  the  sight  of  each  other.  None  the  less  would 
this  be  a  happy  world,  not  because  we  were  dancing,  but  be- 
cause we  each  rejoiced  in  the  sight  of  such  a  spectacle.  The 
happiness  of  the  individual,  as  I  have  said,  must  be  ever  the 
unit  of  happiness.  We  may  talk  as  much  as  we  like  about 
distributing  it  in  the  present,  but  we  must  first  be  clear  as  to 
its  present  value.  We  may  talk  as  much  as  we  like  about 
increasing  it  in  the  future,  but  we  must  first  be  clear  how  its 
present  value  is  capable  of  expansion. 

Surely  one  might  have  thought  that  this  was  plain  enough 
— that  even  a  child  could  understand  it.  And  yet  it  would 
seem  that  it  is  not  so.  For  here  are  all  our  modern  English 
moralists  making  daily  the  same  blunder ;  and  not  only  mak- 
ing it,  but  proclaiming  it  aloud  with  ever-increasing  vehe- 
mence. Thus  Professor  Huxley,  not  long  since,  said  that 
that  state  of  man  would  be  "  a  true  civitas  Dei,  in  which  each 
man's  moral  faculty  shall  be  such  as  leads  him  to  control  all 
those  desires  which  run  counter  to  the  good  of  mankind  " — 
a  sentence  which  means  nothing,  unless  the  "good  of  man- 
kind "  be  defined  first  of  all  as  the  divine  good  of  each  indi- 
vidual man.  We  shall  never  get  to  a  civitas  Dei  from  mere 
order  and  co-operation.  These  will  take  us  some  way,  it  is 
true,  but  it  is  a  part  of  the  way  only ;  and  that  they  will   take 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  33 1 

US  as  far  as  they  do  is  perfectly  self-evident,  and  has  no  need 
of  all  this  emphatic  reassertion.  There  must  be  order  amongst 
thieves,  as  well  as  amongst  honest  men.  Let  an  army  be  sent 
on  a  holy  war  or  an  accursed  one,  the  discipline  will  be  the 
same  that  we  shall  need  in  it.  There  can  be  an  orderly 
brothel  as  well  as  an  orderly  nunnery ;  and  all  order  rests 
on  co-operation.  We  presume  co-operation ;  we  require  an 
end  for  which  to  co-operate. 

Let  us  then,  once  and  for  all,  set  aside  all  this  talk  about 
social  morality,  as  at  present  nothing  to  the  point.  Let  us 
remember  that  the  end  we  are  asking  for  is,  in  the  first  place, 
a  strictly  personal  end.  Can  our  moralists  show  us  any  one 
highest  personal  good,  towards  which,  as  Professor  Huxley 
says,  we  may  be  "  continually  striving  ? "  That  is  the  one 
question  that  really  calls  for  an  answer.  What  shall  I  do  ? — 
and  I  ? — and  I  ? — and  I  ?  What  do  you  offer  me  ? — and  me  ? 
— and  me  ?  This  is  the  great  question  that  mankind  is  ask- 
ing. "  You  must  promise  something  to  each  of  us,"  it  says, 
"or  very  certainly  you  will  be  able  to  promise  nothing  to  all 
of  us."  Nor  is  there  the  least  loophole  left  for  escape  in  tell- 
ing us  to  work  for  others,  and  to  find  our  happiness  in  that. 
The  question  merely  confronts  us  with  two  other  facets  of 
itself.  What  sort  of  happiness  shall  I  procure  for  others  ? 
and  what  sort  of  happiness  will  others  procure  for  me  ?  What 
will  it  be  like  ?  Will  it  be  worth  having  ?  Let  us  be  sure 
about  that  first.  For  it  will  certainly  give  me  no  delight  to 
procure  for  others  what  I  should  feel  no  delight  in  if  procured 
by  others  for  me.  The  coin  itself  must  have  some  intrinsic 
value.     It  ^yill  never  acquire  it  by  being  merely  shuffled  about 


332  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

from  one  hand  to  another.  A  million  dull  individuals  will 
not  make  a  happy  state ;  nor  will  a  million  million  dull  indi- 
viduals make  a  glorious  humanity,  any  more  than,  as  we  often 
know  to  our  cost,  twenty  dull  individuals  will  make  a  brilliant 
dinner  party,  or  a  hundred  average  churchgoers  a  fervent 
congregation. 

We  have  thus  arrived,  then,  at  the  true  heart  of  the  ques- 
tion. When  I  am  inquring  into  life's  value,  I  am  inquiring 
into  the  highest  kind  of  personal  happiness  that  life  can  be 
made  to  yield  to  us. 

I  must  now  examine  the  answers  that  our  moralists  have 
made  to  this.  It  is  with  these  answers  that  our  real  concern 
lies.  With  the  former  class  it  was  easy  enough  to  deal.  They 
were  not  false ;  they  were  simply  not  to  the  point ;  and  we 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  them  on  one  side.  But  the 
fault  that  vitiates  these  is  far  subtler.  The  question  here  is 
no  longer  evaded.  The  answers  are  straight-forward  and  are 
singularly  plausible  ;  and  until  we  look  at  them  very  nar- 
rowly, it  is  hard  to  say  that  they  are  not  in  a  great  measure 
satisfactory.  The  problem,  let  ^  us  remember,  is  to  give  us 
something  worth  living  for,  some  goal  to  work  towards  when 
the  very  notions  of  a  God  and  a  future  life  shall  have  left 
us,  and  have  evaporated  even  out  of  our  imaginations.  Now 
many  of  our  new  teachers  begin  by  frankly  admitting  to  us 
that  the  loss  of  a  belief  in  God,  and  the  hope  of  a  future  life, 
may  be  some  real  loss  to  us.  Others  again  contend  that 
this  loss  is  a  gain.  Their  views  on  this  point,  however, 
are  not  much  to  the  present  purpose.  What  we  have  now  to 
remember  is  that,  even  according  to  those  who  admit  life  to 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  333 

have  lost  most  in  this  way,  the  loss  is  not  a  very  important, 
still  less  is  it  a  fatal  one.  It  will  still  leave  us  a  life  that  is 
worth  living.  The  character  of  our  aims  and  pleasures  will 
not  be  radically  changed  by  it.  The  good  is  still  to  be  an  aim 
for  us  ;  and  our  devotion  to  it  will  be  more  valuable,  because 
it  will  now  be  quite  disinterested.  Thus  Professor  Tyndall 
tells  us  that,  though  he  has  now  rejected  the  religion  of  his 
earlier  years,  yet,  granting  him  proper  health  of  body,  there 
is  ''  no  spiritual  experience,"  such  as  he  then  knew,  "  no 
resolve  of  duty,  no  work  of  mercy,  no  act  of  self-renounce- 
ment, no  solemnity  of  thought,  no  joy  in  the  life  and  aspects 
of  nature,  that  would  not  still  be  (his)  ;  and  this  without  the 
least  regard  to  any  purely  personal  reward  or  punishment 
looming  in  the  future."  ^  The  same  is  the  implicit  teaching 
of  all  George  Eliot's  novels.  So,  too,  Professor  Huxley  tells 
us,  that  come  what  may  to  our  "  intellectual  beliefs  and  even 
education,"  he  "  sees  no  reason  to  doubt "  that  "  the  beauty 
of  holiness  and  the  ugliness  of  sin  "  are,  for  those  that  have 
eyes  to  see  them,  "  no  mere  metaphors,"  but  "  real  and 
intense  feelings."  ^  And  Mr.  Sully  tells  us  in  his  late  work 
on  Pessimism,  that  "lives  nourished  and  invigorated"  by  a 
purely  human  ideal,  "have  been  and  still  may  be  seen 
amongst  us,  and  the  appearance  of  but  a  single  example 
proves  the  adequacy  of  the  belief."  It  is  plain  that  such 
utterances  as  these  enunciate  practically  no  new  system  at 
all.  They  merely  redirect  our  attention  to  the  old  one  ;  they 
again  point  to  the  old  practical  ends  and  courses  of  action, 
and  tell  us  that  these  in  themselves  are  their  own  reward  and 
*  Fragments  of  Science,  p.  562.  *  Nineteenth  Century,  No.  3,  p.  537. 


334  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

their  own  sufficient  motive.  Such  is  the  teaching  of  our 
modern  moralists.  There  is,  too,  another  school  of  teachers 
to  be  dealt  with,  though  at  present  not  openly  popular,  who 
would  give  us  a  rule  of  life,  but  who  would  yet  hardly  call 
themselves  moralists  at  all.  These  would  still  distinguish 
probably  between  vice  and  virtue,  and  admit  that  the  pleas- 
ures they  give  us  are  of  a  different  quality.  But  they  would 
deny  that  one  practically  was  better  than  the  other.  They 
would  call  nothing  common  or  unclean  ;  they  would  make  us 
free  to  eat  any  fruit  in  the  garden  ;  and  the  greater  variety, 
they  would  say,  we  could  enjoy  of  these,  so  much  the  better 
for  us.  This  teaching  is  at  present  more  often  implied  than 
stated.  But  at  least  one  of  this  school,  in  our  day,  has  been 
clear  enough  on  the  matter ;  and  he  explicitly  bases  his 
teaching  on  the  teachings  of  modern  science.  "  Each  mo- 
ment," says  Mr.  Pater,  "  some  form  grows  perfect  in  hand  or 
face  ;  some  tone  on  the  hills  or  sea  is  choicer  than  the  rest ; 
some  mood  of  passion,  or  insight,  or  intellectual  excitement, 
is  irresistibly  real  and  attractive  for  us."  And  thus,  "while 
all  melts  under  our  feet,"  he  goes  on,  "  we  may  well  catch  at 
any  exquisite  passion,  or  any  contribution  to  knowledge,  that 
seems  by  a  lifted  horizon  to  set  the  spirit  free  for  a  moment, 
or  any  stirring  of  the  senses,  strange  dyes,  strange  flowers, 
and  curious  odors,  or  the  work  of  the  artist's  hand,  or  the 
face  of  one's  friend." 

Here  then  are  two  sets  of  teachers,  who  profess,  without 
any  aid  from  religion,  to  secure  for  us  some  real  value  in  life. 
The  one  finds  this  value  in  one  set  of  pleasures  only,  and 
maintains  that  the  art  of  happiness  is  to  renounce  all  other 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  335 

pleasures  for  these.  The  other  finds  this  value  in  all 
pleasures  alike,  and  maintains  that  the  art  of  happiness  is  to 
select  as  many  of  all  kinds  as  is  possible.  And  it  will  be 
necessary  for  us  to  consider  both  of  these  views.  For.  sup- 
posing we  can  show  that  morality  vanishes  with  the  vanishing 
of  religion,  still  it  does  not  follow  that  happiness  does.  And 
if  men  can  be  really  thoroughly  happy  without  morality,  noth- 
ing will  convince  them  that  they  are  losers  by  having  ceased 
to  be  moral. 

And  now  what  I  am  about  to  point  out  is  this — that  both 
these  classes  of  teachers  have  committed  hitherto  one  radical 
fault,  by  which  all  their  after  conclusions,  be  they  never  so 
accurate,  are  of  necessity  completely  vitiated.  They  both 
profess  to  give  us  a  rule  of  life  without  religion — without  a 
God  whose  will  we  may  do  here,  and  whose  vision  we  may 
enjoy  hereafter.  But  they  think  that  the  task  is  far  simpler 
than  it  is.  They  think,  it  would  seem,  that  they  have  but  to 
kill  God,  and  that  his  inheritance  shall  be  ours.  Accordingly 
they  strike  out  the  beliefs  in  question,  and  then  turn  instantly 
to  life  ;  they  sort  its  resources  ;  count  its  riches  ;  and  then  say 
"  Aim  at  this, — and  this, — and  this.  See  how  beautiful  is 
holiness ;  see  how  rapturous  is  pleasure.  Surely  these  are 
worth  seeking  for  their  own  sakes,  without  *  any  reward  or 
punishment  looming  in  the  future.' "  They  find,  in  fact,  the 
interests  and  the  sentiments  of  the  world's  present  life — all 
the  glow  and  all  the  gloom  of  it — lying  before  them  like  the 
colors  on  a  painter's  palette  ;  and  they  think  they  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  set  to  work  and  use  them.  But  let  them 
wait  a  moment.     They  are  in  far  too  great  a  hurry.     The 


336  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

palette  and  its  colors  are  not  nearly  ready  for  them.  One 
of  the  colors  of  life — religion,  that  is — a  color  which,  by 
their  own  admission,  has  hitherto  been  an  important  one — 
they  have  swept  clean  away.  And  let  them  remember  ex- 
actly why  they  have  done  this.  It  may  be  a  pleasing  color, 
or  it  may  not.  This  is  a  matter  of  taste.  But  one  thing  all 
our  modern  teachers  assure  us-^it  is  not  a  fast  color.  It  is 
found  to  fade  instantly  in  the  new  sunlight  of  knowledge.  It 
is  rapidly  getting  dim,  and  dull,  and  dead.  It  is  worse  than 
the  "flying  colors,"  as  Peter  Pindar  called  them,  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds.  When  once  it  is  gone,  we  shall  never  be 
able  to  restore  it ;  and  all  future  pictures  of  life  must  be  tinted 
without  its  aid.  They  therefore  profess  loudly  to  us  that 
they  are  going  to  employ  it  no  longer.  But  there  is  this 
point — this  all-important  point  that  has  quite  escaped  them. 
They  have  rejected  the  color  in  its  pure  state,  and  they 
think  that  they  have  altogether  got  rid  of  it.  They  seem  not 
to  suspect  that  it  may  be  mixed  up  with  the  colors  they  re- 
tain, and  be  the  secret  of  much  of  their  depth  and  lustre. 
Let  them  analyse  these  colors  before  they  use  them.  Let 
them  see  whether  religion  be  not  lurking  there,  as  a  subtle 
coloring  principle  in  all  their  pigments,  even  one  grain  of  it 
being  perceptible  in  its  effects.  Let  them  only  begin  this 
analysis,  and  it  will  very  soon  be  clear  to  them  that  to 
cleanse  life  of  religion  is  not  so  simple  a  process  as  they 
seem  to  have  fancied  it.  Its  actual  dogmas  may  be  readily 
put  away  from  us;  not  so  the  effect  which  these  dogmas 
have  worked  during  the  course  of  centuries.  In  disguised 
forms  they  are  round  us  everywhere ;   they  confront  us  in 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  337 

every  human  interest,  in  every  human  pleasure.  They  have 
beaten  themselves  into  all  life ;  they  have  eaten  their  way 
into  it ;  like  a  secret  sap  they  have  flavored  every  fruit  in 
the  garden.  There  are  as  a  powerful  drug  that  has  got  into 
our  whole  system. 

But  there  is  this  great  fact  to  remember.  There  have  been 
always  forces  in  the  system  working  this  drug  out  of  it ;  only 
hitherto  fresh  doses  have  been  continually  administered. 
Once,  however,  let  us  destroy  our  stock  of  the  drug,  and  what 
must  follow  will  be  evident.  The  drug  will  in  time  work  alto- 
gether out  of  the  system,  but  it  will  not  work  out  immediately. 
Its  effect  will  not  stop  suddenly  the  moment  we  cease  to  ad- 
minister fresh  doses  of  it.  The  result  will  be  very  gradual, 
though  very  sure. 

If  then  we  would  appraise  the  vigour  and  value  of  life,  in- 
dependent of  religion,  we  must  not  draw  conclusions  from  it 
while  religion  is  yet  in  its  system.  Our  modern  moralists, 
therefore,  in  taking  life  as  it  is,  are  building  on  an  utterly  un- 
sound foundation.  A  fatal  error  is  the  kernel  of  their  first 
premises.  Mr.  Sully  is  thus  emphatically  wrong  when  he  says 
that  a  single  example  in  the  present  day  (or,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  any  number  of  examples)  either  goes  or  can  go  any  way 
towards  proving  the  adequacy  of  any  non-religious  formula. 
Equally  wrong,  too,  are  the  other  writers  I  have  quoted.  Let 
them  analyze  what  they  mean  by  the  "  beauty  of  holiness,"  "  re- 
solves of  duty,"  and"  solemnity  of  thought ;"  or  by  "  insight," 
"passion,"  and  "  intellectual  excitement."  And  let  them  bring 
to  this  spiritual  analysis  but  a  little  of  that  skill  that  has  been 

attained  to  in  the  analysis  of  matter.     In  our  late  experiments 

22 


338  QC/£ST/OA'S  OF  BELIEF. 

on  spontaneous  generation  what  untold  qains  have  been  taken  1 
With  what  laborious  thought,  with  what  emulous  ingenuity, 
have  we  struggled  to  completely  sterilize  the  fluids  in  which 
we  are  to  seek  for  the  new  production  of  life  !  How  jealously 
have  we  guarded  against  leaving  there  any  already  exist- 
ing germs !  Surely  spiritual  matters  are  worthy  of  an 
equally  careful  treatment.  For  what  we  have  here  to 
study  is  not  the  production  of  the  lowest  forms  of  animal 
life,  but  the  highest  forms  of  human  happiness.  These 
were  once  thought  to  be  always  due  to  religion.  The  new 
doctrine  is  that  they  are  producible  without  such  aid.  Let 
us  treat,  then,  the  "  beauty  of  holiness  "  and  "  intellectual 
excitement  "  as  Professor  Tyndall  has  treated  the  infusions  in 
which  life  has  been  said  to  originate.  Let  us  boil  them  down, 
so  to  speak,  and  destroy  every  germ  of  religion  in  them,  and 
then  see  how  far  they  will  generate  happiness.  And  let  us 
treat  in  this  way  vice  no  less  than  virtue.  Having  once  done 
this,  we  may  honestly  claim  whatever  yet  remains  to  us  ;  then 
we  shall  see  what  materials  for  happiness  we  can,  as  atheists, 
call  our  own ;  then  our  atheistic  ethics,  if  any  such  be  possi- 
ble, will  begin  to  have  a  real  value  for  us — then,  but  not  till 
then. 

Such  an  analysis  must  be  naturally  a  work  of  time.  And 
it  is  indeed  more  my  purpose  to  point  out  its  necessity,  than 
to  attempt  myself  to  perform  it.  But  a  certain  part  of  it  is  a 
work  of  comparative  ease ;  and  even  this  will  yield  us  results 
that  will  be  very  suggestive  to  us. 

The  things  of  life  as  they  appeal  to  us,  either  singly  or 
woven  together  by  the  imagination  and  the  memorj',  would  be 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  1  339 

separable  naturally  into  two  groups,  according  as  they  repel 
or  please  us.  And  a  merely  natural  happiness  can  be  meas- 
ured by  nothing  but  by  what  we  obtain  of  the  naturally  pleas- 
ant, and  by  what  we  avoid  of  the  naturally  painful.  But  if 
we  examine  life  as  we  actually  now  find  it  about  us,  we  shall 
see  that  this  natural  classification  has  been  traversed  by  an- 
other. Many  things  naturally  repellent  have  received  a  super- 
natural blessing ;  many  things  naturally  pleasant  have  re- 
ceived a  supernatural  curse.  Thus  in  what  at  present  passes 
muster  as  the  highest  happiness,  there  are  many  elements  of 
pain  ;  and  in  what  passes  muster  as  the  profoundest  misery, 
there  are  many  elements  of  pleasure.  Thus,  whereas  happi- 
ness naturally  would  be  the  test  of  right,  right  is  now  super- 
naturally  the  test  of  happiness.  And  so  completely  is  this 
notion  ingrained  in  the  world's  present  consciousness  that  in 
all  our  deeper  views  of  life,  no  matter  whether  we  be  saints 
or  sinners,  right  and  wrong,  not  happiness  and  misery,  are 
the  conceptions  that  first  appeal  to  us.  A  certain  supernatural 
moral  judgment,  in  fact,  has  become  our  primary  faculty  ;  and 
it  mixes  its  voice  spontaneously  with  every  estimate  we  form 
of  the  world  around  us. 

Now  here  we  have  religion  in  its  commonest  concrete 
form.  I  shall  show  this  more  fully  by-and-by.  But  I  must 
first  exemplify  the  fact  on  which  I  have  just  been  dwelling — 
I  must  exemplify  how  everywhere  and  in  everything,  let  us 
turn  where  we  will,  let  us  fix  our  eyes  on  what  we  will,  this 
supernatural  sense  is  always  with  us ;  and  that  to  it  is  due 
every  keener  pleasure  and  every  deeper  interest  that  we  at 
present  find  life. 


-^O  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

This  might  seem  at  first  sight  a  hard  task  to  perform — the 
interests  we  have  to  deal  with  are  so  varied  and  so  many  in 
number.  But  there  is  one  special  interest  that  will  here  as- 
sist us,  an  interest  which  forms,  as  it  were,  an  epitome  of  all 
the  rest,  and  through  which  we  shall  be  enabled  at  once  to 
deal  with  them.  I  mean  art.  For  let  us  consider  what  art  is 
and  why  it  pleases  us.  Its  pleasures  are  strictly  relative  to 
the  pleasures  of  life.  We  must  care,  for  instance,  for 
the  human  face,  or  we  should  never  care  for  portraits  of 
it.  We  must  care  for  living  womanhood,  or  we  should 
never  care  for  marble  goddesses.  We  must  care  for  love, 
or  we  should  never  care  for  love-songs.  And  so  on  with 
all  the  rest  of  life's  resources.  Art  may  send  us  back  to  these 
with  an  intenser  appreciation  of  them ;  but  we  must  bring  to 
art  from  life  the  appreciations  we  want  intensified.  Art  is  a 
factor  in  human  happiness,  because  by  its  means  ordinary 
men  are  made  partakers  in  the  vision  of  exceptional  men. 
Great  art  is  a  speculum  reflecting  life  as  the  keenest  eyes  have 
seen  it.  All  its  images  are  of  value  only  as  this.  Taken  by 
themselves,  "  the  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows."  In  ex- 
amining a  work  of  art,  then,  we  are  examining  life  itself,  and 
not  life  merely,  but,  as  it  were,  a  quintessence  of  life — life 
with  its  resources  magnified  and  intensified  to  their  utmost. 

And  now  remembering  this,  let  us  turn  to  some  of  the 
world's  greatest  works  of  art — I  mean  its  dramas ;  for  poetry 
is  the  most  articulate  of  all  the  arts,  and  the  drama  is  the 
most  comprehensive  form  of  poetry.  Let  us  turn,  for  instance, 
to  Sophocles,  to  Shakespeare,  and  to  Goethe,  and  consider 
some  of  their  greatest  plays,  and  how  they  present  life  to  us. 


/S  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  341 

If  we  do  this,  it  will  need  but  little  thought  to  show  us  that  all 
these  are  addressed  primarily  to  the  supernatural  moral  judg- 
ment; that  this  judgment  is  perpetually  being  expressed 
explicitly  in  the  plays  themselves  3  and  still  more,  that  it  is 
always  presupposed  in  us.  In  other  words,  these  plays  are 
all  of  them  presentations  of  men  struggling,  or  failing  to 
struggle,  not  after  natural  happiness,  but  after  supernatural 
right ;  and  it  is  always  presupposed  that  we,  on  our  part, 
recognize  this  struggle  as  the  one  supreme  thing  that  gives 
life  its  importance.  And  this  importance,  primarily  and  es- 
sentially, is  based  not  upon  the  social  consequences  of  con- 
duct, but  upon  its  personal  consequences.  In  Macbeth,  for 
instance,  the  main  incident,  the  tragic  coloring-matter  of  the 
drama,  is  the  murder  of  Duncan.  But  in  what  aspect  of  this 
does  the  real  tragedy  lie  ?  Not  in  the  fact  that  Duncan  is 
murdered,  but  that  Macbeth  is  the  murderer.  What  appals 
us,  what  purges  our  passions  with  pity  and  with  terror  as  we 
contemplate  it,  is  not  the  external,  the  social  effect  of  the  act, 
but  the  personal,  the  internal  effect  of  it.  As  for  Duncan,  he 
is  in  his  grave  ;  after  life's  fitful  fever,  he  sleeps  well.  What 
our  minds  are  made  to  dwell  upon  is  not  that  Duncan  shall 
sleep  for  ever,  but  that  Macbeth  shall  sleep  no  more.  We  see 
in  Hamlet  precisely  the  same  thing.  The  action  that  our  in- 
terest centers  in  is  the  hero's  struggle  to  conform  to  an  inter- 
nal personal  standard  of  right,  utterly  irrespective  of  use  to 
others  or  of  natural  happiness  to  himself.  In  the  course  of 
this  struggle,  indeed,  he  does  nothing  but  ruin  the  happiness 
around  him ;  and  this  ruin  adds  infinitely  to  the  pathos  of  the 
spectacle.     But  we  are  not  indignant  with  Hamlet  as  being 


342  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

the  cause  of  it.  We  should  have  been  indignant  rather  with 
him  if  the  case  had  been  reversed,  and,  if  instead  of  sacrifi- 
cing social  happiness  for  the  sake  of  personal  right,  he  had 
abandoned  personal  right  for  the  sake  of  social  happiness. , 
In  Antigone  again  we  have  an  explicit  statement  of  the  super- 
natural moral  axiom  on  which  that  whole  marvellous  tragedy 
rests — that  the  one  rule  we  are  to  live  by,  and  not  to  live  by 
only,  but  to  die  for,  is  no  human  rule,  is  no  standard  of  our 
own,  nor  can  it  be  altered  by  what  will  make  either  ourselves 
or  others  happy ;  but  it  is  "  the  unwritten  and  the  enduring 
laws  of  God,  that  are  not  of  to-day  or  yesterday,  but  they  live 
from  everlasting,  and  none  can  declare  the  mystery  of  their 
generation."  Would  we  see  the  matter  pushed  to  a  yet  nar- 
rower issue,  let  us  turn  to  Measure  for  Measure  and  to  Faust. 
In  both  these  plays,  we  can  see  at  once  that  one  moral  judg- 
ment, not  to  name  others,  is  presupposed  before  all  things. 
This  is  a  hard  and  fixed  judgment  with  regard  to  female  chas- 
tity and  the  supernatural  value  of  it.  It  is  because  we  assent 
to  this  judgment  that  Isabella  is  heroic  to  us ;  Margaret  is 
unfortunate  in  our  eyes  for  the  same  reason.  Isabella  has 
kept,  Margaret  has  lost,  her  "  eternal  jewel."  .  Let  us  for  a 
moment  suspend  this  judgment,  and  what  will  become  of  the 
two  dramas  ?  The  terror  and  the  pity  of  them  will  vanish  all 
at  once  like  a  dream.  The  fittest  name  for  both  of  them 
would  be  "  Much  Ado  about  Nothing."  The  deepest  feelings 
that  such  works  could  then  arouse  in  us  would  be  pity  for 
people  who  were  so  disturbed  about  trifles,  or  wonder  at 
people  who,  having  pleasure  before  them,  deliberately  re- 
fused to  take  it,  or,  having  taken  it,  deliberately  made  it  bitter 
by  cursing  it. 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  343 

It  will  thus  be  seen — and  the  more  we  consider  the  mat- 
ter the  more  plain  will  it  become  to  us — that  the  supernatural 
moral  judgment  is  the  first  faculty  in  us  that  art  appeals  to  ; 
that  in  all  great  art  the  suppressed  premiss  is  this  :  The 
grand  relation  of  man  is  not  first  to  his  brother  men  but  to 
something  beyond  humanity  ;  to  this  first,  and  to  his  brother 
men  through  this.  We  are  not  our  own ;  we  are  bought 
with  a  price.  Our  bodies  are  God's  temples,  and  if  these  are 
profaned,  some  unimaginable  ruin  is  sure  to  overtake  the  pro- 
faner.  Such  are  the  solemn  and  profound  beliefs,  whether 
conscious  or  unconscious,  on  which  all  the  great  art  of  the 
world  has  based  itself.  All  the  profundity  and  solemnity  of 
this  art  is  borrowed  from  these,  and  is  in  exact  proportion  to 
the  intensity  with  which  men  hold  them. 

Nor  is  this  true  of  sublime  and  serious  art  only.  It  is  true 
of  cynical  and  profligate  art  as  well.  It  is  true  of  Congreve 
as  it  is  true  of  Sophocles.  The  supernatural  moral  judgment 
is  essential  to  the  character  of  the  libertine  as  it  is  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  saint.  The  libertine  is  the  spirit  who  denies. 
But  he  must  have  some  affirmation  for  the  denial  to  prey 
upon.  He  hates  the  good,  and  its  existence  piques  him  ;  but 
he  must  know  that  the  good  exists  none  the  less.  "  I'd 
no  sooner,"  says  one  of  Congreve's  characters,  "  play  with 
a  man  that  slighted  his  ill-fortune  than  I'd  make  love  to  a 
woman  who  undervalued  the  loss  of  her  reputation."  In  this 
one  sentence  lies  the  whole  secret  of  profligacy.  We  have 
here  the  exact  counterpart  to  the  words  of  Antigone  that  I 
have  already  quoted.  For  just  as  her  life  lay  in  conformity 
to  "the  unwritten  and  enduring  laws  of  God,"  so  does  the  life 


344  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

of  the  profligate  lie  in  the  violation  of  them.  To  each  the 
existence  of  the  laws  is  equally  essential.  For  profligacy  is 
not  merely  the  gratification  of  the  appetites,  but  the  gratifica- 
tion of  them  at  the  expense  of  something  else.  Beasts  are  not 
profligate — we  cannot  have  a  profligate  goat.  Nay,  even  in 
cases  where  men  do  their  best  to  sink  below  the  level  of 
profligacy,  and  to  plunge  deepest  in  the  pleasures  that  are 
most  entirely  animal,  the  supernatural  element,  unsuspected 
by  themselves,  is  still  present,  and  is  really  what  gives  the 
mad  rage  to  their  passion.  We  may  detect  its  presence  even 
in  such  abnormal  literature  of  indulgence  as  the  erotic  work 
commonly  ascribed  to  Meursius.  It  is  perfectly  evident  that 
such  pleasures  as  are  there  dealt  with  are  supposed  to  enthral 
men  not  in  proportion  to  their  intensity  (for  this  would  prob- 
ably be  pretty  nearly  equal),  but  in  proportion  to  their  low- 
ness — to  their  sullying  power.  Degradation  is  the  measure 
of  enjoyment ;  or  rather,  it  is  an  increasing  numeral  by  which 
one  constant  figure  of  enjoyment  is  multiplied.  Such  pleas- 
ures are  sought  only  in  "  twilights,"  where  virtues  are  vices 
and  their  votaries  are  ever  ready  to  ask — 

Ah,  where  shall  we  go  then  for  pastime, 
-£  the  worst  that  can  be  has  been  done  ? 

Thus,  if  we  look  at  life  as  it  is,  in  the  mirror  of  art,  we 
shall  see  how  the  supernatural  is  ever  present  to  us.  If  we 
climb  up  into  heaven,  it  is  there  ;  if  we  go  down  into  hell,  it 
is  there  also.  We  shall  see  it  at  the  bottom  equally  of  two 
opposite  sets  of  pleasures,  to  one  or  other  of  which  all  human 
pleasures  belong.  The  source  of  one  is  an  impassioned  strug- 
gle after  the  supernatural  right,  or  an  impassioned  sense  of 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  t  345 

rest  upon  attaining  it ;  tiie  source  of  the  other  is  the  sense  of 
revolt  against  it,  which  flatters  us  in  various  ways.  In  both 
cases  equally  the  primary  sense  appealed  to  is  the  supernatural 
moral  judgment.  All  the  life  about  us  is  colored  by  this  ; 
and  if  this  is  destroyed  or  weakened,  the  whole  aspect  of  life 
will  change  to  us. 

I  will  now  explain  why  I  call  this  judgment  supernatural. 
I  call  it  so  because  natural  sense  cannot  supply  it ;  because 
no  interrogation  of  nature  can  either  support  or  verify  it ;  be- 
cause, tested  by  scientific  tests  of  reality,  it  at  once  melts  into 
air  like  the  vainest  of  vain  dreams.  To  see  that  this  is  so, 
we  have  but  to  consider  two  of  its  essential  characteristics. 
In  the  first  place  this  judgment  is  absolute.  It  discriminates 
between  right  and  wrong  with  a  menacing  and  imperious 
dogmatism,  from  which  there  is  no  appeal  ;  and  it  applies  the 
same  standard  to  all  men.  In  the  second  place,  the  difference 
it  asserts  between  right  and  wrong  is  one  not  of  degree  but 
of  kind  ;  and  the  difference  is  thus  in  its  nature  infinite.  Let 
u§  take  for  example,  the  moral  judgment  on  purity.  In  the 
first  place  this  judgment  asserts  that  purity  is  better  than  im- 
purity for  all  men,  making  no  allowance  either  for  taste  or  tem- 
perament. In  the  second  place  it  asserts  that  the  choice  be- 
tween this  worse  and  this  better  is  of  an  importance  that  is  quite 
incalculable.  These  two  characteristics,  our  non-theistic  mor- 
alists, on  their  own  admission,  are  utterly  unable  to  supply. 
But  throughout  their  whole  teaching  they  are  perpetually  for- 
getting this  acknowledgment.  They  have  explicitly  reduced 
virtue  to  a  taste,  but  they  are  for  ever  speaking  of  it  as  if  it 
were  more  than  a  taste.     Thev  have  evidently  a  meatiing  and 


346  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

a  feeling  for  which  they  can  find  no  place  in  their  reasoned 
system.  They  have  a  feeling  that  not  the  greatest  happiness 
is  the  real  test  of  conduct  ;  and  they  hold  this  highest  good 
up  to  men,  as  though  no  one  existed  who  might  not  grow  to 
discern  its  goodness.  Thus  Professor  Huxley,  as  we  have 
seen,  absolutely  condemns  the  "  rank  and  steaming  valleys  of 
sense."  He  speaks  as  if  he  had  some  canon  of  happiness, 
independent  of  all  the  various  and  veering  tastes  of  those 
whom  he  addresses.  And  such  is  the  language,  and  such  is 
the  position,  of  all  our  atheistic  moralists.  Their  meaning  is 
clear  enough  ;  their  reasoning  is  clear  enough  ;  but  their 
reasoning  is  utterly  incapable  of  giving  any  support  to  their 
meaning.  And  they  are  themselves,  in  a  confused  way,  con- 
scious of  this  confusion.  For  let  them  be  only  pushed  hard 
enough,  they  surprise  us,  one  and  all,  by  a  sudden  desertion  of 
their  own  premisses,  and  they  clutch  convulsively  at  a  sup- 
port of  which  hitherto  they  had  made  no  mention.  They  start 
one  and  all  with  the  axiom  that  happiness  is  the  test  of  conduct, 
that  happiness  is  the  object  of  morality.  But  as  soon  as  this 
test  shows  signs  of  failing  them,  they  directly  quit  it  for 
another.  Thus  Professor  Huxley  admits  that  the  belief  in  a 
God  always  by  us,  to  see  that  we  are  faithfully  seeking  after 
our  own  happiness,  might  be  doubtless  very  useful,  if  we 
could  only  believe  it  to  be  true.  But,  he  goes  on,  if  no  proof 
of  its  truth  be  forthcoming,  and  if,  in  its  absence,  the  human 
race  lapse  below  the  beasts  in  their  beastiality,  we  shall  at 
least,  he  says,  have  one  comfort  in  knowing  that  men  will 
"  not  have  reached  the  lowest  depths  of  immorality,"  so  long 
as  they  hold  to  the  plain  rule  of  not  pretending  to  believe 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  347 

what  they  have  no  reason  to  believe,  because  it  may  be  to 
their  advantage  so  to  pretend."  Now,  by  a  simple  substitu- 
tion of  terms,  we  can  see  what  an  utter  absurdity  is  contained 
«  in  this  sentence.  According  to  the  modern  definition,  im- 
morality can  have  no  conceivable  meaning  but  unhappiness, 
or,  at  least,  the  means  to  it,  which  in  this  case  are  hardly  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  end.  And  thus,  according  to  this  rigid 
reasoning,  the  human  race  will  not  have  reached  its  lowest 
depths  of  misery  so  long  as  it  rejects  the  one  thing  which, 
ex  hypothesi,  might  render  it  less  miserable. 

The  reason  of  this  confusion  is  plain.  Our  moralists  are 
beginning  with  one  test  of  conduct ;  they  are  ending  with 
quite  another.  They  are  beginning  with  subjective  happi- 
ness ;  they  are  ending  with  objective  truth. 

And  now  here  is  a  plain  question,  which  may  be  answered 
in  one  of  two  ways,  but  which,  on  the  atheistic  hypothesis, 
cannot  possibly  be  answered  in  both.  Is  truth  valuable  only 
because  it  conduces  to  happiness  ?  or  is  happiness  only 
valuable  when  it  is  based  on  truth  ?  If  the  latter,  truth,  not 
happiness,  is  the  test  of  conduct.  If  our  teachers  really  mean 
this,  let  them  explicitly  and  consistently  say  so.  Let  them 
keep  this  test,  let  them  reject  the  other ;  for  the  two  cannot 
be  fused  together.  Apparently  they  have  some  dim  supersti- 
tion that  the  attainment  of  truth  will,  in  some  unexplained 
way,  coincide  with  the  attainment  of  happiness.  But,  as  we 
have  just  seen,  the  moment  this  notion  is  really  brought  to 
the  test,  its  falsehood  becomes  apparent.  Truth  may  some- 
times subserve  happiness,  but  at  other  times  it  is  absolutely 
opposed  to  it.     Never  at  any  time  are  the  two  to  be  identified 


348  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

o^oq  r  aXsi<pd  r   ij'^iai;  raurw  xursc 
St^oaraTovvT  av  ou  ft'Xoiv  izpoaswiitoiq. 

And  if  we  do  but  consider  the  matter  a  moment,  it  will  be 
plain  that  this  not  only  is  so,  but  that  it  must  be  so.  For 
what  does  truth  mean  as  our  modern  teachers  speak  of  it  ? 
It  means  the  apprehension  of  the  facts,  the  sequences,  of  the 
natural  order,  as  observation  and  experiment  reveal  them  to 
us.  It  means  the  knowledge  of  Nature.  But,  viewed  from  a 
natural  stand-point,  what  is  Nature  ?  Nature,  as  Mill  has  so 
well  pointed  out,  is  a  thing  that  can  have  no  claim  either  on 
our  reverence  or  our  approbation.  Judged  of  by  any  human 
standard.  Nature  is  a  monster.  There  is  no  crime  that  men 
abhor  or  perpetrate  that  Nature  does  not  commit  daily  on  an 
exaggerated  scale.  She  knows  no  sense  either  of  justice  or  of 
mercy.  In  what  way  then  can  it  be  a  holy,  a  noble,  a  moral 
thing  to  study  the  ways  of  this  monster,  unless,  the  test  of  all 
morality  being  human  happiness,  we  can  lay  it  down  as  an 
axiom  that  an  intimacy  with  this  eternal  criminal  will  make  us 
happiest  ?  I  am  speaking  of  this  purely  from  the  atheistic  stand- 
point. The  believer,  of  course,  admits  that  truth  is  a  sacred 
thing ;  and  he  believes  that  truth  will  never  militate  against 
the  highest  happiness,  but  will  always  guide  him  to  it,  when 
apprehended  fully.  But  his  belief  rests  pn  a  foundation  that 
has  been  renounced  altogether  by  his  opponents.  He  values 
truth  because,  in  whatever  direction  it  takes  him,  it  takes  him 
either  to  God  or  towards  him.  He  sees  Nature  to  be  cruel 
when  viewed  by  herself.  But  behind  Nature  he  sees  an  all- 
merciful  God,  in  whom  mysteriously  all  contradictions 
are  reconciled.       Nature  for  him   is    God's,   but  it   is   not 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ?  349 

God.  "  Non  enim  vasa,"  he  says  in  the  words  of  Augustine, 
"  quae  te  plena  sunt,  stabilem  faciunt ;  quia  etsi  frangan- 
tur,  non  effunderis.  .  .  Ubique  totus  es,  et  res  nulla  te  totum 
capit."  "Though  God  slay  me,"  says  the  believer,  "yet 
will  I  trust  in  him."  This  trust  can  be  attained  to  only  by  an 
act  of  faith  like  this.  No  observation  or  experiment  will  be 
enough  to  give  it ;  nay,  without  faith  observation  and  experi- 
ment will  do  nothing  but  undermine  it.  Thus  a  belief  in  the 
essential  value  of  truth  is  as  strictly  an  act  of  religion  as  is 
the  belief  in  any  article  of  an  ecclesiastical  creed.  It  is 
simply  a  concrete  form  of  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
symbol,  "  I  believe  in  God,  the  Father  Almighty."  It  rests  on 
the  same  set  of  proofs,  neither  more  nor  less.  Nor  is  it  too 
much  to  say  that  without  a  religion,  without  a  belief  in  God, 
no  fetish  worship  was  ever  more  ridiculous  than  this  cultus 
of  natural  truth.  There  are  many  true  facts,  of  course,  which 
it  is  plainly  good  for  us  to  know  ;  and  the  discovery  and 
publication  of  these  are  of  course  praiseworthy  from  the 
utilitarian  stand-point.  But  this  electicism  in  the  search  for 
truth  is  not  devotion  to  truth  for  its  own  sake.  It  is  devotion 
to  it  for  the  sake  of  its  consequences,  not  in  scorn  of  them  ; 
and  we  are  thus  simply  sent  back  again  to  the  place  we  came 
from.  We  are  sent  back  to  happiness — to  that  test  which 
we  found  so  shifting.  It  is  only  in  the  devotion  to  truth 
for  its  own  sake  that  we  find  anything  absolute.  And  this 
devotion  is,  as  I  say,  in  its  very  essence  religious  and  super- 
natural ;  or  if  not  that,  it  is  utterly  mad,  aimless,  and  irra- 
tional, nor  can  it  possibly  long  continue  to  hold  its  own  in 
the  world. 

Thus  ag:ain  we  come  to  relierion.     As  it  was  embodied  in 


350  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

our  praise  of  purity,  so  is  it  embodied  also  in  our  praise  of 
truth.  Let  us  struggle  in  what  way  we  will  to  produce  a 
moral  judgment,  we  shall  find  that  without  religion  it  is  im- 
possible for  us  to  do  so.  This  being  the  case,  the  moral 
judgment  is  a  thing  of  which  we  must  in  imagination  rid  our- 
selves ;  we  must  look  on  life  uninfluenced  by  it,  if  we  would 
see  what  life  can  offer  us  out  of  its  own  resources,  and  what 
prospects  we  can  hold  out  to  the  world  when  it  has  got  rid  of 
all  that  reason  can  rid  it  of,  and  when  it  believes  nothing  but 
what  it  can  support  by  proof. 

It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  this  should  be  done,  and 
that  it  should  be  done  thoroughly.  What  the  new  school  of 
teachers  are  now  introducing  amongst  us  is  the  reign  of 
reason,  or  it  is  nothing:  it  is  a  reign  of  reason,  as  opposed  to 
a  reign  of  faith.  But  they  seem  to  forget  somewhat  what 
reason  is.  Reason  will  do  much  for  us  ;  but  what  will  it  do  ? 
Reason  itself  is  nothing  but  a  mill.  If  we  bring  grist  to  it, 
it  will  grind.  If  we  bring  no  grist  to  it,  it  can  but  turn  and 
turn  j  it  will  never  bring  any  grist  to  itself.  It  will  manufac- 
ture conclusions  out  of  premisses  that  we  supply  to  it ;  but  we 
must  get  our  premisses  from  elsewhere.  Natural  science  gets 
these  from  the  senses,  and  bids  reason  grind  out  of  them 
what  happiness  it  can.  But  the  senses,  themselves  are  not 
reason.  It  is  not  reason  that  tells  us  that  sweet  is  sweet, 
and  that  sour  is  sour.  Still  less  is  it  reason  that  discerns  the 
beauty  of  holiness,  or  "  the  undefined  but  bright  ideal  of  the 
highest  good."  The  lower  goods  are  discerned  by  the  senses^ 
The  highest  good  is  discerned  by  faith.  And  here  we  see  the 
great  difference  between  the  two.     The  lower  goods  are  in- 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  1  351 

disputable.  The  higher  goods  are  disputable.  No  one  can 
talk  us  out  of  our  five  senses  ;  but  the  value  of  truth  and 
holiness  has  been  disputed  and  denied  by  millions  all  through 
the  world's  history.  If,  therefore,  we  are  to  believe  in  noth- 
ing but  what  cannot  rationally  be  doubted,  reason  at  once 
tells  us  thus  much,  that  the  absolute  good  is  a  thing  we  are 
not  to  believe  in.  Accordingly,  were  one  of  our  new  teachers 
to  talk  to  me  about  his  highest  good,  I  should  answer  him 
with  hris  own  arguments.  I  should  tell  him  that  no  doubt  it 
might  seem  as  fine  a  thing  as  he  said  it  did,  but  that  my  first 
step  was  "  to  ask  for  a  proof  of  its  existence,"  and  that  if  no 
such  proof  were  forthcoming,  I  had  his  own  authority  for  set- 
ting it  down  as  a  dream.  Can  he  bring,  I  should  ask,  any 
better  proof  of  his  "  highest  good  "  than  the  believers  can  of 
their  "  most  high  God  ?  "  It  is  evident  that  he  cannot ;  it  is 
evident  from  his  own  admission,  and  from  the  admission  of 
all  his  school.  And  what  will  be  the  result  of  this  ?  By  the 
same  warrant  by  which  theism  is  taken  from  us,  the  right  to 
our  moral  judgment  is  taken  likewise.  We  cannot  keep  the 
last,  if  we  are  resolved  to  get  rid  of  the  first.  Our  moralists 
will  intercede  in  vain  for  it  with  the  judge  they  have  chosen. 
They  have  appealed  to  reason.  To  reason  they  must  go. 
Nor  will  reason  let  them  out  of  its  presence  till  they  have 
rendered  up  to  it  the  very  uttermost  farthing.  They  go  to  it 
saying  "  We  v.'ill  assert  nothing,  we  will  be  certain  of  nothing, 
but  what  we  can  prove  and  verify."  And  reason  at  once  an- 
swers that  in  their  eyes  God  must  be  a  dream,  a  fancy.  But 
reason  does  not  stop  there.  When  they  say  before  it  that 
love  is  better  than  lust,  that  truth  for  its  own  sake  is  better 


352  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

than  falsehood,  or  that  it  is  a  higher  pleasure  to  look  at  a 
beetle  through  a  microscope  than  at  a  ballet-girl  through  an 
opera-glass,  reason  again  answers,  **  This  is  a  dream  and  a 
fancy  too.  If  a  few  men  happen  to  think  some  pleasures 
better  than  others,  there  is  a  fact  to  notice.  It  is  not  worth 
much  ;  still  it  is  a  fact.  But  if  you  mean  that  such  tastes 
have  any  claim  on  men  who  do  not  possess  them,  or  in  whom 
they  are  counterbalanced  by  other  tastes, 

This  is  the  very  coinage  of  your  brain. 
This  bodiless  creation  ecstasy 
Is  very  cunning  in. 

This  is  simply  disease — hysteria ;  and  on  your  own  ground, 
men  will  attach  no  more  worth  to  it  than  you  do  to  the  stig- 
mata on  hysterical  peasant  girls,  or  to  the  visions  oi  ihe 
blessed  Margaret  Mary." 

And  now  baring  seen  what  reason  will  take  away  from 
us,  let  us  see  what  it  will  leave  to  us.  It  will  leave  us,  as  I 
have  said,  the  natural  senses  ;  and  it  will  guide  us  to  the 
production  of  such  social  order  as  may  leave  us  free  for  these 
senses  to  serve  us  as  we  will.  It  will  always  be  a  delicious 
thing  to  drink  when  we  are  thirst)',  and  to  sleep  when  we  are 
tired.  The  cool  wind  will  be  always  grateful  to  hot  fore- 
heads. The  smell  of  flowers  will  please  us  ;  and  animal 
spirits  may  come  to  us  in  the  spring.  But  over  all  these  en- 
joyments that  will  be  left  to  us  a  heavy  change  will  come.  In 
the  absence  of  the  super-natural  moral  judgment,  they  will 
all  be  reduced  to  a  dead  level.  The  heights  of  life  will  be 
lowered ;  its  valleys  will  be  filled  up.  There  will  be  no  hol- 
lows full  of  shadow,  and  no  summits  gleaming,  as  at  present, 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  f  3^, 

with  lights  from  another  land.  The  chiaro-oscuro  will  have 
gone  from  life  ;  it  will  present  to  us  no  more  moral  scenery, 
at  least  none  such  as  we  know  at  present.  The  same  thino- 
will  happen  to  life  that  we  have  seen  will  ha[)pen  to  art. 
Take  away  the  moral  judgment,  and  all  its  interests  fall  to 
pieces,  just  as  the  interest  does  of  Faust  or  of  Measure  for 
Measure,  and  just  as  the  wit  does  of  Congreve.  Laughter 
and  gravity  become  silent  side  by  side.  "  We  say  of  laughter 
it  is  mad,  and  of  mirth,  what  doth  it  ?  "  The  same  blow  is 
fatal  both  to  the  sublime  and  ludicrous. 

Thus,  therefore,  .without  reference  to  any  prejudice  in 
favor  of  either  vice  or  virtue,  here  is  one  effect  of  atheism 
that  will  be  of  equal  import  to  all.  The  first  thing  now  to 
impress  on  the  world  in  general  is  not  that  these  new  princi- 
ples will  inaugurate  a  reign  of  immorality — that,  to  half  the 
world,  would  be  no  bad  news — not  that,  but  that  they  will  in- 
augurate a  reign  of  dulness.  Vice  and  virtue  will  deaden 
down  to  one  neutral  lint ;  every  deeper  feeling  either  of  joy 
or  sorrow  will  lose  its  vigor,  and  will  cease  any  more  to  be 
resonant.  There  will  be  no  contrast ;  there  will  be  no  va- 
riety ;  there  will  be  no  solemnity  of  thought  for  the  Tyndalls; 
there  will  be  no  levity  of  thought  for  the  Voltaires.  The 
worn  curate  toiling  hard  to  save  souls  in  the  East  End,  the 
intriguing  wife  toiling  hard  to  ruin  her  own  in  Belgravia,  will 
each  find  a  sustaining  power  gone  out  of  their  lives.  The 
object  that  each  sighed  for  and  that  excited  each  will  be 
gone.  Indeed  the  state  of  things  that  modern  thought  seems 
to  promise  us,  and  which  it  is  in  some  degree  actually  even 
now  bringing  upon  us,  is  one  that  was  long  ago  predicted, 

2\ 


354  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

with  an  accuracy  that  seems  little  short  of  inspired,  at  the  end 
of  Pope's  Dunciad.  All  that  he  says  of  dulness  may  be  said 
of  our  modern  atheism.  Its  teachers  are  one  and  all  the 
precursors  of  this  new  kingdom  ;  they  are  preparing  the  way 
before  it.  They  may  deny  this  as  loudly  and  as  honestly 
as  they  please.  They  may  pit  as  they  please  the  practice 
they  have  inherited  from  their  fathers  against  the  principles 
they  are  bequeating  to  their  children ;  but  it  will  be 

In  vain,  in  vain.    The  all-composing  hour 
Resistless  falls  :  the  muse  obeys  the  power. 

Before  her  fancy's  gilded  clouds  decay, 
And  all  the  varj'ing  rainbows  die  away. 
Wit  shoots  in  vain  its  momentary  fires : 
The  meteor  drops  and  in  a  flash  expires. 

Such  literally  is  the  effect  with  which  atheism  threatens  the 
present  resources  of  life.  In  our  own  day,  about  us  in  England, 
we  may  see  the  prophecy  beginning  to  fulfil  itself.  We  may 
see  in  many  quarters  dulness  and  lassitude  already  setting  in, 
and  the  very  notion  of  content  and  happiness  vanishing.  And 
yet  we  are  being  told  that  our  new  aim  in  life  is  happiness,  and 
that  even  if  we  cannot  procure  it  for  ourselves,  we  can  help 
to  procure  it  in  a  brighter  future  for  others.  We  are  told  that 
the  happiness  of  heaven  was  an  idle  dream,  a  vapid  figment  j 
that  it  vanished  when  we  tried  to  conceive  it  \  but  that  this 
human  happiness  is  something  that  is  solid  and  certain.  If 
so,  what  is  it?  Even  at  present  it  is  hard  to  procure,  with  all 
the  interests  of  life  at  their  present  intensity.  Much  more 
will  it  be  hard  to  procure  when  these  interests  lose  their 
strongest  hold  upon  us,  and  when  all  life's  finest  flavors  shall 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  355 

have  gone  from  it,  as  I  have  shown  they  must  go  with  the 
final  going  of  religion.  When  therefore  our  moralists  talk 
about  humanity,  and  the  glory  of  its  earthly  present,  and  still 
more  of  its  earthly  future,  I  reply  to  them  in  the  very  words 
that  one  of  themselves  has  used  with  regard  to  its  heavenly 
future.  I  say  to  them  as  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison  says  to  his 
opponents,  '■'■  My  position  is  this.  The  idea  of  a  glorified  energy 
in  an  ampler  life  is  an  idea  utterly  incompatible  with  exact  thought ; 
one  which  evaporates  in  contradiction — ///  phrases  which,  when 
pressed,  have  no  7neaning"  What,  I  ask,  will  the  ideally  happy 
man  be  like  ?  What  will  he  long  for  ?  What  will  he  take 
pleasure  in  ?  How  will  he  spend  his  days  ?  How  will  he 
make  love  ?  What  will  he  laugh  at  ?  Let  us  have  some  pic- 
ture of  this  nobler,  ampler,  glorified  being  of  the  future.  Let 
him  be  described  in  phrases  which,  when  pressed,  do  not  evap- 
orate in  contradictions,  but  which  have  some  distinct  mean- 
ing, and  which  are  compatible  with  exact  thought.  Perhaps 
such  a  being  tnay  emerge  in  the  future.  I  can  only  say  that 
I  defy  any  one  to  imagine  him,  or  seriously  to  hope  for  his 
production.  If  we  really  do  believe  that  he  is  in  store  for  us, 
the  belief  is  as  much  an  act  of  faith  as  the  belief  in  heaven  ; 
it  is  as  vague  ;  it  is  even  more  grotesque  ;  and  what  discredits 
the  one  equally  discredits  the  other.  For  myself,  I  can  con- 
ceive no  more  ludicrous  spectacle  than  any  possible  picture  of 
one  such  radiant  being,  except  it  were  a  whole  race  of  them. 
In  a  life  bounded  by  itself,  in  a  life  with  no  hope,  no  outlook 
beyond  itself,  in  a  life  from  which  religion,  the  present  salt  of 
the  earth  (and  I  mean  here,  by  salt,  ihQ  flavoring  as  well  as 
th3/r(fJ"(?/7'/>z^  element),  has  been  taken,  it  is  impossible  to 


3s6  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

imagine  what  any  such  radiance  could  be  about.  If  a  heaven 
with  God  is  a  state  of  blessedness  that  is  unthinkable,  a 
Utopia  on  earth  without  a  God  is  much  more  so. 

As  far,  then,  as  observation  and  experiment  will  carry  us, 
the  one  conclusion  that  we  come  to  is  this  : — All  the  higher, 
indeed  all  the  strictly  human,  pleasures  of  life — human  as 
distinct  from  animal— depend,  and  have  always  depended,  on 
the  supernatural  moral  judgment ;  on  the  sense  not  that  we 
are  doing  our  own  will,  but  the  will  of  a  Power  above  us,  who 
is  greater  and  more  sublime  than  we,  and  yet  is,  in  a  sense, 
akin  to  us.  Nor  in  saying  this  do  I  confine  myself  to  the 
Christian  centuries,  nor  to  nations  nor  to  ages  that  have  risen 
to  any  higher  kind  of  theism  at  all.  The  same  tending  towards 
a  personal  God  is  to  be  traced  in  all  the  great  civilizations  of 
the  world.  There  has  been  the  same  moral  passion,  though 
it  has  been  utterly  unable  to  explain  itself  to  itself.  To  un- 
derstand this,  it  is  enough  to  hint  a  comparison.  This  long- 
ing for  God,  man's  strongest  spiritual  passion,  has  its  analogue 
in  his  strongest  physical  passion.  And  as  the  latter  is  a 
mystery  to  itself  in  the  youth  of  the  individual,  so  is  the  former 
a  mystery  to  itself  in  the  youth  of  race. 

Our  present  school  of  moralists  are  men  who  would  still 
retain  the  moral  passion,  but  at  the  same  time  they  deny  the 
existence  of  its  only  possible  object,  and  set  up  others  that 
are  utterly  inadequate  either  to  excite  or  to  appease  it.  Such 
is  the  enthusiasm  of  humanity,  which  is  now  offered  as  an 
explanation  of  it.  This  is  really  nothing  but  the  desire  of  God, 
which  will  not  confess  itself.  George  Eliot's  books,  to  turn 
to  a  striking  instance,  are  really  instinct  with  a  latent  theism, 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  f  357 

with  an  unacknowledged  religious  dogmatism  of  the  most 
absolute  and  severest  kind.  George  Eliot  is  really,  as  Spinoza 
was,  a  person  intoxicated  with  God.  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison 
is  another  case  in  point.  He,  too,  like  George  Eliot,  is  a  sup- 
pressed theist.  He  is  full  of  a  longing  for  God  that  declines 
to  own  itself ;  and  when  he  tells  us  that  all  his  fine  feelings 
are  due  to  the  teachings  of  Positivism,  the  best  reply  we  can 
make  to  him  is  in  the  lines  of  Byron,  with  the  alteration  of  a 
single  word : 

If  you  think  philosophy  'twas  this  did, 
I  can't  help  thinking  theism  assisted. 

I  am  not  speaking  at  random.  I  am  simply  calling  atten- 
tion to  a  fact  as  capable  of  investigation  and  proof  as  any 
other — that  is,  the  intimate  connection  of  morality  and  relig- 
ion, or  rather  their  essential  identity,  not  their  mere  connec- 
tion. They  are,  in  fact,  but  different  aspects  of  the  same 
thing.  "  I  desire  to  be  pure  in  heart  "  is  only  another  way  of 
saying  "  I  desire  to  see  God."  Neither  the  value  of  purity 
nor  the  existence  of  God  is  a  thing  that  can  be  proved  ;  but 
this  fact  can  be,  that  they  stand  and  fall  together.  We  can 
get  rid  of  both  if  we  like,  but  we  cannot  keep  the  one  and 
reject  the  other.     What  destroys  one  will  destroy  both. 

The  practical  question,  then,  that  is  really  before  us  is 
this  : — Has  life,  as  we  have  hitherto  viewed  it,  been  viewed 
under  a  false  aspect,  a  deceiving  glamour  ?  Are  all  its  pains 
and  pleasures  but  a  mixture  of  a  nightmare  and  an  ecstasy, 
giving  to  everything  an  exaggerated  value  both  of  joy  and 
sorrow?     Is   the   moral  life   only   a  dream  we   have   been 


358  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

dreaming,  and  from  which,  in  groups  less  or  larger,  we  are 
now  at  last  awakening  ? 

This  is  a  question  that  reason  cannot  answer.  The  an- 
swer must  be  sought  in  a  deeper  part  of  our  nature.  The 
choice  is  between  premisses,  not  between  conclusions.  Shall 
we  set  our  affections  on  nothing  but  what  cannot  be  doubted  ? 
If  so,  we  shall  set  them  on  nothing  but  the  pleasures  of  sense. 
And  this  is  what  the  entire  science  of  the  last  three  centuries 
has  been  schooling  the  world  to  do,  though  the  real  import  of 
its  teaching  is  only  now  at  last  slowly  becoming  apparent. 

At  present,  beyond  a  doubt,  it  is  the  world's  tendency  to 
accept  this  teaching.  Indeed,  in  a  great  measure  it  has  al- 
ready accepted  it.  What  I  am  trying  now  to  point  out  is  the 
certain  practical  result  of  this  acceptance.  That  result  is  a 
paralysis  of  the  moral  judgment — the  paralysis,  that  is  of  the 
sense  by  which  all  life's  keener  interest  has  been  hitherto 
apprehended. 

And  what  will  be  the  state  of  those  on  whom,  one  by  one, 
in  the  world  now  about  us,  this  paralysis  seizes,  as  it  is 
seizing  day  by  day  ?  They  will  be  men  looking  before  and 
after.  They  will  see  the  life  that  the  world  has  lived  hitherto, 
but  is  now  leaving  behind  it.  They  will  see  the  life  that  the 
world  is  drifting  into.  The  cA^  feeling  for  virtue  will  still  re- 
main with  them.  They  will  still  carry  with  them  the  importu- 
nate notion  that  life  might  have  some  high  and  worthy  meaning. 
They  will  still  have  the  wish  to  struggle  after  righteousness. 
Personally,  very  likely,  they  will  still  continue  to  do  so.  But 
all  the  while  the  conviction  will  haunt  them,  corroding  their 
whole  nature,  that  this  struggle  is,  after  all,  an  unmeaning 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING?  359 

one  ;  and  they  will  feel  that  to  other  men  they  can  give 
neither  blame  nor  praise.  They  will  be  forced  to  look  with  a 
desponding  impartiality  on  the  higher  impulses  that  are  yet 
surviving,  and  on  the  lower  impulses  that  will  always  remain 
a  constant  quantity.  Xhey  will  not  call  the  virtuous  foolish, 
nor  the  vicious  wise.  They  will  praise  one  set  of  men  no 
more  than  the  other.  They  will  merely  say  to  each  with  the 
same  listless  impartiality :.  "  Do  as  you  please,  so  long  as  you 
do  not  interfere  with  your  neighbors.  If  a  man  has  princi- 
ples, let  him  live  by  them.  The  principles  are  a  dream,  but 
no  matter — to  him  practically  they  are  facts."  They  will  say 
the  same  to  the  man  with  no  principles  :  "  Follow  your  vices  ; 
follow  5'our  passions  ;  be  a  beast  if  you  choose  to  be — do  just 
as  you  like." 

They  will  not  deny  that  to  many  life  may  have  a  balance 
of  pleasures.  But  this  they  do  say — that  if  this  balance  be 
not  realized  here,  and  on  this  side  the  grave,  then  life  has 
no  meaning  for  us,  and  can  have  none.  To  the  unsuccessful 
they  will  have  no  word  of  comfort.  They  can  only  say  to 
such,  "  The  end  will  come  soon.  Then  draw  the  curtain  ; 
the  weary  farce  will  be  over." 

No  denial  of  life's  worth  can  be  more  complete  than  this. 
It  is  all  the  more  forcible,  because  it  affects  no  impossible 
universality.  It  will  leave  life  the  worth  of  a  toy  for  those 
that  care  to  play  with  it ;  but  to  those  who  have  outgrown  toys 
it  will  leave  nothing.  This  pessimism  is  very  different  from 
that  of  Schopenhauer.  Schopenhauer's  has  been  attributed 
to  some  form  of  mental  disease — to  some  abnormal  depres- 
sion  of  spirits  that   made  all  life  look  black  to  him.     But 


360  QUESTIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

this  pessimism  is  of  a  different  kind.  It  will  be  possible 
for  the  most  healthy  and  most  joyous  temperaments,  as 
well  as  for  the  most  morbid.  It  will  darken  the  brightest 
moods  as  well  as  it  will  harmonize  with  the  darkest.  It 
will  be  ready  to  assail  us  in  all  our  business  and  in  all  our 
pleasures,  touching  us  with  ever-recurring  qualms  of  life- 
sickness.  It  is  so  simple  that  all  can  accept  it.  It  is  a 
kingdom  into  wTiich  even  little  children  may  enter.  It  may 
leave  us  mad ;  but  to  get  a  hold  on  us,  it  assuredly  will  not 
need  to  find  us  so. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS  have  in  preparation  a  scries  of  volumes,  to  be 
issued  under  the  title  of 

CURRENT   DISCUSSION, 

A  COLLECTION  FROM  THE  CHIEF  ENGLISH  ESSAYS  ON  QUESTIONS 
OF  THE  TIME. 

The  series  will  be  edited  by  Edward  L.  Burlingame,  and  is  designed  to 
bring  together,  for  the  convenience  of  readers  and  for  a  lasting  place  in  the 
libiary,  those  important  and  representative  papers  from  recent  English  periodi- 
cals, which  may  fairly  be  said  to  form  the  best  history  of  the  thought  and  in- 
vestigation of  the  last  few  years.  It  is  characteristic  of  recent  thought  and 
science,  that  a  much  larger  proportion  than  ever  before  of  their  most  important 
work  has  appeared  in  the  form  of  contributions  to  reviews  and  magazines  ;  the 
thinkers  of  the  day  submitting  their  results  at  once  to  the  great  public,  which  is 
easiest  reached  in  this  way,  and  holding  their  discussions  before  a  large  audience, 
rather  than  in  the  old  form  of  monographs  reaching  the  special  student  only. 
As  a  consequence  there  are  subjects  of  the  deepest  present  and  permanent  in- 
terest, almost  all  of  whose  literature  exists  only  in  the  shape  of  detached  papers, 
individually  so  famous  that  their  topics  and  opinions  are  in  everybody's  mouth 
— ^yet  collectively  only  accessible,  for  re-reading  and  comparison,  to  those  who 
have  carefully  preserved  them,  or  who  are  painstaking  enough  to  study  long 
files  of  periodicals. 

In  so  collecting  these  separate  papers  as  to  give  the  reader  a  fair  if  not 
complete  view  of  the  discussions  in  which  they  form  a  part ;  to  make  them 
convenient  for  reference  in  tlie  future  progress  of  those  discussions  ;  and  especi- 
ally to  enable  them  to  be  preserved  as  an  important  part  of  the  history  of 
modem  thought, — it  is  believed  that  this  series  will  do  a  sen-ice  that  will  be 
widely  appreciated. 

Such  papers  naturally  include  three  classes : — those  which  by  their  originality 
have  recently  led  discussion  into  altogether  new  channels ;  those  which  have 
attracted  deserved  attention  as  powerful  special  pleas  upon  one  side  or  the 
other  in  great  current  questions  ;  and  finally,  purely  critical  and  analytical  dis- 
sertations. The  series  will  aim  to  include  the  best  representatives  of  each  of 
these  classes  of  expression. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 

CONSTANTINOPLE.  By  Edmundo  de  Amicis,  author  of  "A  Journey 
through  Holland,"  "Spain  and  the  Spaniards,"  &c.  Translated  by 
Caroline  Tilton.  With  introduction  by  Prof.  Vincenzo  Eotta. 
Octavo,  clolh. 

A  trustworthy  and  exceptionally  vivid  description  of  the  city  which,  in  the  present 
reopening  of  the  Eastern  question,  is  attracting  more  attention  than  any  other  in  the 
world.  De  Amicis  is  one  of  the  strongest  and  most  brilliant  of  the  present  generation  of 
Italian  writers,  and  this  latest  work  from  his  pen,  as  well  from  the  picturesqueness  of  its 
descriptions  as  for  its  skilful  analysis  of  the  traits  and  characteristics  of  the  medley  of 
races  represented  in  the  Turkish  capital,  possesses  an  exceptional  interest  and  value. 

THE  GREEKS  OF  TO-DAY.  By  Hon.  Charles  K.  Tl'ckerman, 
late  Minister  Resident  of  the  U.  S.  at  Athens.  Third  Edition.  i2mo, 
cloth, $1.50 

This  work  attracted  special  attention  at  the  time  of  its  publication,  in  1872,  as  giving 
a  trustworthy  and  interesting  picture  of  life  in  Greece,  and  of  the  character  and  status  of 
the  modem  Greek.  At  this  time,  when  public  attention  is  so  generally  directed  towards 
the  scheme  of  practically  re-establishing  a  Greek  empire  and  Greek  supremacy  in  the 
East,  it  is  thought  that  a  new  edition  will  prove  of  interest  and  service. 

"  The  information  contained  in  the  volume  is  ample  and  various,  and  it  cannot  fail 
to  hold  a  high  rank  among  the  authorities  on  modern  Greece." — N.  V.  Tribune. 

"No  one  can  read  this  book  without  having  his  interest  greatly  increased  in  this 
brave,  brilliant,  and  in  every  way  remarkable  people." — N.  Y.  Times. 

"  We  know  of  no  book  which  so  combines  freshness  and  fullness  of  information."— 
N.  y.  Nation. 

ENGLAND ;  POLITICAL  AND  SOCIAL.    By  Auguste  Laugel, 
Translated  by  J.  M.  Hart.     i2mo,  cloth,        ....       $1.50 
"  It  is  written  with  a  tone  of  confidence  and  force  of  expression  which  captivate." 
— Buffalo  Commercial. 

"  Affords  a  clear,  distinct,  and  comprehensive  view  of  the  political  institutions  of 
England."— A'^.  Y.  Nation. 

"  Here,  in  every  sense,  is  a  charming  book.     ♦    ♦    ♦    •    So  full  of  thought,  that, 
like  the  best  of  Macaulay's  Essays,  it  will  bear  reading  more  than  once.      •      •     •      * 
We  have  rarely  met  with  more  picture-like  descriptions  of  what  seems  to  have  dwelt  most 
upon  his  mind — English  landscape  scenery  and  rural  life." — A"".  Y.  World. 

THE   SILVER  COUNTRY;  or,  THE  GREAT   SOUTHWEST. 

A  Review  of  the  Mineral  and  other  Wealth,  with  the  attractions  and 
material  development  of  the  former  kingdom  of  New  Spain,  comprising 
Mexico  and  the  territory  ceded  by  Mexico  to  the  United  States  in  1848 
and  1853.  By  Alexander  D.  Anderson.  8vo,  cloth,  with  Hypso- 
metric Map, $1-75 

"Just  at  the  present  moment  everything  which  affords  reliable  information  on  the 
question  of  silver,  its  uses  and  production,  is  of  almost  paramount  interest." — Washington 
National  Republican. 

"  A  very  useful  book  for  those  who  wish  to  study  the  silver  question  in  its  funda- 
mental feature." — Chicago  "Journal. 

"  The  book  will  unquestionably  become  the  authority  on  the  subject  of  which  it 
treats."— i°/.  Louis  R^ublican. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  helow 


APR  4     1956 


OCT  1  4  195? 


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'l-12,'30(3as«) 


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2     Curr^t  dis- 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBHAHY  cmuili  i  i 


AA      000  056  81 


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